Artistic Licence
by PalindromeIsntOne
Summary: Ike is an eccentric artist with an eye for stunning detail... and Marth. But Marth has an eye for Roy, a work collegue at the cafe who he's fancied for years. But when Roy makes a move do they make the perfect picture Marth was hoping for?
1. A perfect picture

**AN: Not sure of the pairing yet, leaning towards IkexMarth, but I could make it RoyxMarth so tell me what you think!**

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"One super strong super big coffee please."

Marth looked at the stranger in front of him with as neutral an expression as possible. The man wore tattered denim short and an open shirt which was splattered in both dried and fresh paint. His shoelaces were untied, his dark blue hair a mess. The beginnings of shadows hung under his eyes, but this was counteracted by the eyes themselves – a sparkling, lively blue both playful and commanding.

"Anything else sir?" He reeled off the standard line, pressing buttons on the cashier.

"No, just coffee will be great."

"Can I offer you a free loyalty card? Buy six cups of any hot drink and get the seventh free."

"No, I don't come around often. Have _my_ card though." The man passed a scruffy business card over the desk.

"Ike Greil, that's me. Want any sort of modern art, or even any art done anywhere, just call."

Marth took the card without comment and turned to the next customer. As he took the order, he watched the artist out of the corner of his eye. Upon receiving his drink the man had grabbed it and run out of the door like a wanted criminal. Shirt flapping, coffee spilling, the eccentric man burst out of the door wildly before turning and running down the street. Marth wondered what the rush was about.

"What did that guy say his name was?" asked Roy, his best friend and work colleague.

"Ike Greil. Artist. Heard of him?"

"Nah. And what's he running for if he's an artist?"

"I was wondering the same thing."

Roy sighed, with the familiar parental expression of _people nowadays._

"You still on for karaoke tonight?"

Marth groaned. "Remind me – how did you manage to talk me into that?"

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know." Roy grinned, and Marth smiled back, trying not to blush. He had always fancied Roy a little bit, but he had never been lead on, and was too shy to do the leading.

It was evening, and Marth helped his sister Elisse into the taxi.

"You sure you want to come to this party?" he asked her for the fourth time.

"Yes! It'll be fun!"

"Well if you get tired or anything…"

"Marth, stop mothering me. I'm older than you! Do you think I'm going to go into premature labour or something?" She patted her rounded belly proudly. "Don't worry, this one's brewing up to be nice and big."

Marth looked unconvinced so she addressed the taxi driver instead.

"Ignore him. And if I do go into labour I will personally pay you double."

The taxi pulled away. Marth looked at his sister with a mix of appreciation and concern. She still hadn't told him who the father was, as if he needed to be protected from such information. All he knew was that she was pregnant with an unwanted kid and that as the father had wanted nothing to do with it she had left him to deal with the kid on her own. Elisse caught Marth's expression.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm so brave."

"But you are!"

"No, seriously, stop it. I will cry you know – my hormones are making me sensitive today."

"Fine."

After a few minutes the taxi pulled up at the bar that had been totally hired out for Zelda's hen party, an old school friend of Marth's. Roy lingered by the karaoke stand, taking pride of place in the centre of the room. Marth left Elisse to go over to him.

"Packed, isn't it?"

"Definitely. I think I'll have to take my jacket off." Roy tussled with his stylish leather jacket before throwing it to one side. Marth tried not to appreciate his chest.

"How are you with loud music and dancing?" Roy asked, his tone of voice clearly implying his own confidence.

"Terrible," Marth admitted.

"What?" It was hard to hear as the music was cranked up yet another notch.

"I said 'terrible'!" Marth cried over the noise. Roy was already retreating into the crowd, and Marth followed so as not to lose sight of him.

"What?" he asked again, beckoning Marth with one hand to join him on the main dance floor.

"TERRIBLE!" Marth repeated, but Roy was already dancing. Marth watched him, awkward.

"Come on!"

"I can't dance!"

"Come on! Just try it?" Roy was enjoying himself. Marth was wishing he could disappear. It was quickly becoming obvious that any form of dancing would look better than simply standing still like an idiot. Hopelessly, Marth began to move to the beat.

"That's it! Loosen up!" Roy encouraged, but at that moment the crowd shifted, pushing between them.

"Roy?" _Damn, what was he supposed to do now?_ But a firm hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward through the bodies.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Roy let go of his wrist. "Now dance!"

"How?"

"Just do what I do?"

But now the sheer mass of the crowd hemmed them in on all sides, so that Marth was so close to Roy that if he looked down to see how Roy was dancing he would end up resting his head on Roy's chest. However he was interrupted halfway through considering the pros and cons of this by Roy himself.

"Hey! Isn't that the artist bloke?" Roy pointed. Marth turned around. Sure enough, on the karaoke stand none other than the crazed artist from the morning was busting some surprisingly flexible moves. Wearing beige trousers and red breeches but no top or shoes, his style was hard to pinpoint – a combination of break-dancing, street-dancing and pure thrusting.

"He's a good dancer," Roy commented.

With such a unique dance style it seemed impossible to say if he was carrying it off or not, but combined with his unusual dress and general attitude there was certainly something captivating about it.

"I like him," Marth decided.

"Like him or _like_ him?"

Marth looked at him. "Just like." And like. It was easier to fancy the artist in a way, because he was on a stage, removed, viewed from afar. Whereas when it came to fancying Roy…well everything just got a bit more complicated. Marth looked back to the artist. "What was his name again?"

"Ike, wasn't it?"

"That's it."

Roy watched him a moment longer and then turned to invite Marth to resume dancing. Reluctantly Marth accepted, and they danced for a few more minutes, tantalisingly close, until Roy decided it was time for some karaoke. Dragging Marth towards the stand he consulted him briefly on song choice before pulling him onto the stand for a duet. No karaoke had been initiated beforehand – they would be the first singers. A loud applause met the intro and the DJ cut the dance music to that people could listen to the karaoke.

Marth was terrified. Due to the loud music he hadn't heard Roy's suggestion of song choice and so it was only when he heard the familiar intro that he recognised the song. It was 'Five Colours In Her Hair.' Marth cringed even though he liked the song. However, the crowd didn't seem to object, and as Roy finished the first verse Marth joined in on the chorus.

"Everybody wants to know her na-a-a-a-a-a-ame…" There was lots of cheering. Marth tried and failed to convince himself he wasn't being watched. The only thing he could do was keep singing.

"Everyone asks me, who the hell is she? That weirdo with five colours in her hair…" Despite himself, Marth found himself settling into it, and as the song went on he sang more and more confidently. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Roy's surprised expression. He hadn't thought he'd be this confident either. But when the song ended he found out Roy had been surprised for a completely different reason.

"You're an amazing singer!"

"What?" He stepped off the stand and worked is way through the crowd until he left the dance floor for seats and tables.

"You can really sing!" exclaimed Roy. Marth smiled at the compliment.

"You're not bad yourself." He looked around the room for Elisse, who he'd lost sight of during the song. Weaving through the tables he scanned around quickly with his eyes, passing over her twice until he realised what he'd seen.

On the table in the far corner Elisse sat opposite Ike, t-shirt semi-lifted whilst he painted her belly. Marth blinked. He couldn't believe the crazy artist was actually painting his sister's pregnancy bump. Just then Elisse turned and saw Marth watching them.

"Hey! Marth, come see."

Marth wandered over to them. Ike's eyes broke concentration briefly to meet Marth's in silent greeting, but then returned to his painting. Marth looked over his shoulder at his sister. The painting taking shape was a stunningly realistic corn field gently swaying, whilst a beautiful sunset lit up the background.

"Wow," he said, unable to help himself. Ike, dramatically serious, either didn't hear him or deliberately ignored him.

"The baby normally kicks so much… but it seems to have settled down now." Elisse looked at Ike with obvious admiration.

"How much did it cost?" Marth asked. At this Ike stopped painting completely and looked up at him, disgusted.

"You think I would charge a pregnant lady for a casual painting out of hours?"

_A casual painting out of hours? It looked like a bloody masterpiece._ "Sorry, sir…Mr Greil…"

"Call me Ike. I won't take offense if you let me paint your face."

Marth figured he'd misheard. "Pardon?"

"Will you let me paint your face?"

So he hadn't misheard after all. "Er…"

"Go on, it'll be fun," Roy joked from behind him.

"Ok," Marth agreed nervously.

"Great. Take a seat, I'm just finishing." He was using ordinary face paints, Marth realised. How on earth did he manage to get such a professional effect with _those_? He watched as Ike added the final brush stroke to Elisse's belly and then turned to Marth, giving him a casual look-over before meeting his eye.

"What do you want?" he asked directly, and for a moment Marth was thrown off-guard. Roy answered instead.

"You could be a lion or a panda or something."

Ike ignored him, focussing on Marth and studying his face with unnerving intensity. "No," he concluded. "I think I know what to paint." He reached down into a small bag on the ground and pulled out a much smaller and more delicate-looking brush than he had used on Elisse. Marth, afraid he was going to paint a flower or butterfly or something, stammered out, "Please paint something manly," before he had a chance to think about what he was saying. Ike just smiled and began painting.

It was far more awkward than Marth could ever have imagined. Both Elisse and Roy were staring at him with a sort of absent fascination that would look more in place on the face of a new undertaker. But the painter himself bore an expression of pure focus. All of the painting seemed to be concentrated on Marth's right cheek and for a while Marth like to guess what was being painted, but in the end could work out nothing apart from the fact whatever it was was blue. Curiosity eventually got the better of him.

"What are you painting?"

"You'll see in a bit," Ike told him, continuing to paint. Up so close Marth could appreciate even more how handsome he was, with a firm jaw line and smooth complexion. He had a perfect view also of Ike's still-bare chest with all its defined muscles, a little incongruous with a painting persona, Marth thought. And then there was Ike's hand, so close that Marth could smell the paint on his skin, dabbing at his cheek so gently with the soft brush it felt as intimate as if Ike had been using his finger. There seemed nowhere else to look, and it was too rude to move. Tense, Marth waited as Ike finished the painting and sat back. After a long minute's scrutiny he spoke.

"Alright. It's done."

Marth looked to Roy and Elisse to check their reactions.

"It looks real," Roy muttered.

"How real?"

"As real as your face," Elisse answered.

"What is it?"

Ike reached into his bag and handed Marth a small mirror.

"Aaah!" It was a beetle. A perfect blue beetle that matched the colour of Marth's hair yet was somehow more enhanced, so that it actually looked more real than Marth's hair did.

"Wow."

Ike looked proud. As he was looking at Marth's cheek, it looked to Marth as if Ike was proud of _him_, and it did weird things to his stomach. They both stood up and Ike shook his hand.

"Are you a friend of Zelda's then?" Marth asked.

"The host who's getting married in the morning?" Ike smiled ruefully. "Old girlfriend from high-school."

"Oh." It was stupid to be disappointed that he was straight. Stupid. Marth scolded himself inwardly.

"Yeah." Ike gave a short laugh. "Didn't last though because I realised I was gay." He shrugged. _Not elated. Not hopeful. Not interested._ Marth carefully avoided Ike's gaze. But the artist didn't miss a thing.

"Don't forget, you need anything painting, just give me a call."

"Um…sure."

"Well goodbye for now, I need to be off."

Roy laughed. "Just in case the paint dries whilst you're not there?" he joked.

"Yes, actually," Ike replied, in perfect seriousness. Roy frowned.

"Er…right. Sorry, no offense meant."

Ike gave a false smile. "None taken." With which he turned and left. Roy turned to Marth.

"What a nutter."

"Maybe there's method in his madness." Marth shrugged.

"Pfft. I doubt it."

"Well he did paint Elisse's belly nicely, and the beetle… he must be doing something right."

Roy's eyes narrowed slightly, as if annoyed that Marth was defending him.

"Must be doing something right indeed."

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**Ike'll be back soon, he's got some more painting to do yet... Please review! Thanks!**


	2. The crime of Magnolia

Marth looked at him, surprised at his deprecating tone.

"What's your problem? You said he was a good dancer yourself."

Roy looked away and Marth sighed. Beside him, Elisse yawned. He took her arm and helped her to her feet.

"Come on. Let's go home." With one last look back at Roy he headed for the door.

He woke late, smudging blue face paint on his white pillow, and reached one arm out to quieten the alarm clock. It was his day off; he could snooze a little longer before going downstairs to feed the cat.

He rubbed his eyes, awakening himself to a neat world of Magnolia, cream and white, light wood and clean lines. Yawning, he shifted his duvet a little and exposed one pale leg to the morning air. He loved his room, so clean and tidy. Perfect for starting brand new days in. Slowly he rolled out of bed and staggered downstairs to great a happy cat.

"Yeah, you have an easy life, don't you?" he asked it rhetorically, watching as fluffy little Catty (he wasn't particularly imaginative when it came to names) trundled off into the garden. He went back into the kitchen to get some cereal and sat down to eat it, looking around him aimlessly. The walls in here were Magnolia-coloured too, he realised. And so were the walls in the lounge. And now he thought about it, even the bathroom and utility room had Magnolia walls too. He'd never really minded it of even considered the colour scheme of his house before, but after yesterday's meeting with the handsome artist his views had changed. Ike had painted a stunning sunset on Elisse's belly, why not on a wall? But maybe that would be overdoing it. He didn't need an artistic masterpiece of a wall, just a splash of colour would to liven things up a bit. Maybe some yellow or peach or something. Come to think of it, Roy could help him with something like _that_. He considered calling him but then remembered Roy would be working today – their days off didn't always co-inside. That meant he could call Elisse or one of his other friends or… _Don't forget, you need anything painting, just give me a call._ That was what Ike had said. Anything. That included walls, right? It was precisely because he knew he shouldn't really call him that he felt tempted to do so. He'd only met the guy yesterday but so what? If he hired an average painting/decorating service he wouldn't know them at all. And with Ike there would also be the undeniable perk of working alongside someone he found attractive. The more he thought about it the more daring he felt. He found Ike's business card and dialled.

"Hello? Ike Greil speaking."

"Um, it's Marth, from yesterday's party? You painted a beetle on me." He realised that this was the first time he had told Ike his name.

"Oh yeah, cool. You alright?"

"Fine, thanks. I was kind of hoping you could come over and paint some of my walls?"

"And there was me thinking this was a social call." Ike laughed good-humouredly. "When do you want it done?"

"Um…well…" _How bad would it sound to say 'I'm free now'?_

"It depends on how many walls, what size and type of work you're after."

"I'm not sure." He really hadn't thought this through. "It's just that I looked around this morning and realised all my walls are Magnolia," Marth told him truthfully.

"_All?_" Ike sounded personally insulted.

"Yes."

"Bloody hell I'll be right there. What's your address?"

Marth suppressed a laugh at Ike's extreme reaction to his statement. "14 Caskarl Lane, off Toal Road." He waited for a response but after a moment Ike hung up. What an eccentric. Marth went upstairs to take a shower and remove the beetle from his cheek – stunning artwork as it was, it would look odd if he kept it on.

True to his word, Ike arrived in just under 20 minutes and Marth let him in with some apprehension into his Magnolia hallway.

"You weren't kidding about the Magnolia, were you?"

Marth shook his head.

"This is terrible!" Ike exclaimed, striding briskly into the kitchen, then the lounge. "What bleached mind had been at work here? This place has come out of some box!"

Marth followed him as he raced upstairs, running from room to room in dismay.

"Is every brick the same? No! Then why is every wall? Builders did not sweat to build an empty house!" He spun around. "Which bedroom's yours? I cannot even tell!"

Marth led Ike to his room. It was as blank as any other room, but Ike took longer here, walking from wall to wall, pacing restlessly in search of something unknown. Eventually he stopped and turned to Marth.

"Did you buy the house in this state?"

Marth thought for a moment. "The bathroom used to be a sort of dark turquoise," he acknowledged. "The rest was Magnolia."

Ike seemed to have gone past shock. "You painted something Magnolia," he stated slowly, his voice deadpan. Marth nodded, equally slowly. After a long moment Ike resumed talking in a low voice, as if to himself.

"Not only did you buy a Magnolia house and leave it undecorated, but the one room not Magnolia you painted Magnolia."

"Yes."

They stared at each other for a long moment, but Ike's gaze was so passionate Marth had to look away, suddenly ashamed. Ike sighed.

"I'm an artist, not an interior decorator. I couldn't paint a wall a solid colour, not even if that colour was electric blue."

"So what _would_ you do?" Marth asked tentatively. Ike jabbed a finger at his head.

"Too many pictures and ideas in here. Abstract, colour, landscape, portrait, lines – this way, that way… argh! I can't stand this any longer!" he cried, racing past Marth, downstairs and out the front door. Marth wondered if that was it, but moments later he came bolting back up the stairs wielding a medium-sized tub of red paint. And before Marth could say anything or ask what he was going to do Ike threw the paint at one of the walls with force, the paint splattering out on impact to form a haphazard shape on the wall. Some of the paint dribble down to the floor whilst some rebounded, partially catching both Ike and Marth.

"Are you _mad_?" Marth exclaimed.

"Are _you_ mad? All your walls are Magnolia!"

"You could have asked me first!"

Ike sighed. "Do you really object?"

Marth looked at the wall, now at least half covered with a gigantic splash of red paint. There had never been anything on that wall before, nor anything in front of it. Marth had thought someday he would cover it in photos and postcards from all the countries he'd visited. But of course he hadn't travelled, he'd stayed put. And the wall had remained blank. It was as if the red splash was making a statement – _This is what I think of blank walls_. He stared at it for a while.

"Inspiring, isn't it?"

Marth turned slowly back to Ike. "At least put some newspaper down first."

The morning passed in a blur. Ike busied himself adding to the red splash, mixing in some yellow and doing a little effective blending to make the splash look more like a contrived work of modern art. Meanwhile, Marth took out a notepad and tried to plan designs for the other rooms.

At lunch they both took a break for some sandwiched, and sat side by side on Marth's bed, admiring the modified splash of paint on the opposite wall. Ike, as preoccupied and topless as ever, moved his eyes restlessly over the new cosmic abstraction of the wall opposite whilst eating his sandwiched so quickly it was surprising he didn't choke. Marth looked at him in his baggy dungarees, the top half hanging down to expose his chest, smeared and splattered with paint. Despite the thought being a little childish and irrelevant Marth couldn't help thinking that he had a fit man in his bedroom, sitting on his bed only inches away. He felt ridiculously modest in comparison in his long sleeved polo-necked top and jeans.

"I'm not going to get every room in this house done today," Ike commented, standing up and pacing restlessly.

"I suppose I could come back first thing tomorrow and work until the evening… shouldn't take much longer than that, depending."

"How much will it cost?" Marth asked worriedly, suddenly realising that he ought to have considered it much earlier. Ike looked up thoughtfully.

"About £50 in paint costs…"

Marth sighed.

"…and around £1000 in lost time."

_Oh damn_. "I don't think I can affor–"

"But," Ike continued, "For you…one night."

"What?"

"That's the cost. One night – you come round my house and we chill."

"Er…" _Was this guy asking for a one night stand?_

"Or £1050." Ike shrugged.

What a choice.

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**What an offer. Please review!**


	3. Accidents happen

Marth's insides turned to jelly at the thought of either option. There was no way he had £1050. But one night… There had to be a third option. He thought for a moment.

"How much have I cost you so far?"

Ike looked back at the wall. "£10 in paint…"

Marth knew the drill now. He braced himself.

"£250 in lost time. So £260."

Marth moaned. "Why is it so much?"

Ike, sympathetic, knelt down in front of him as if he was a small child. "In the time I've been here, I could have done several painting or one painting or perhaps even a sculpture worth £260. You ought to have Googled me."

Marth's mind boggled at the idea of making that much money in so short a time span. But he should have guessed from the stunningly lifelike appearance of the beetle Ike had painted on his face that Ike was no amateur. Marth suddenly realised that if Ike was offering him one night to cover the cost of the all the painting, not only would he be forfeiting the price of Marth's painted walls he would also be forfeiting the time of the one night he was offering, so depending how late he normally worked he could be giving Marth up to say £1650 worth of Ike-time. God it was weird putting a price on time like that.

"But you threw paint at that wall of your own accord!" Marth complained.

"You called me over here!" Ike retaliated.

Marth sighed, exasperated. He did like the wall – it had been turned from a simple red splash into a stunning sort of organic explosion. It was the only unique feature in the whole house. He went to his cheque book and wrote out a cheque for £260 and handed it to Ike, who took it wordlessly before looking around one last time, muttering "I hate Magnolia" and leaving.

Alone, Marth decided to take the delayed advice and Google search Ike on the internet. There were a few articled mentioning him, mostly review on galleries that Ike had supplied paintings for. So far there was nothing more than a passing mention of him; but it was clear from the critics comments that Ike Greil was an artist on his was up and was a new talent worth keeping an eye on. He had his own website as well, a simple enough site with online galleries of his work. It looked like Ike had painted everything in every style – from stunning still life realism to modern and abstract. He'd done sculptures in clay pottery, metal wire and even Blu-tack. He'd even attempted some photography. Most of his work so far had been sold but there were some new pieces being auctioned over, the highest one current at £500. Marth logged off. He really should have Googled Ike before he called him, but he'd just never imagined that a professional artist would dash into a café for a super strong coffee or paint his sister's belly. It just didn't fit with his idea of a painter – some hermit with a long beard in a cramped studio somewhere. He hoped Ike could forgive him for his ignorance and Magnolia walls.

The next morning Marth woke up to his no longer bland bedroom and got up to get ready for work. He'd decided to put the whole issue of the expense of the paintwork and Ike's offer of 'one night' firmly out of his mind. Yawning, he brushed his hair and then headed downstairs.

Downstairs Marth grabbed the cereal box and then looked for a bowl. He hadn't done some washing up for a while and the only clean bowls left were right at the top shelf of one of his kitchen cabinets. Great. Stretching on tiptoe he reached an arm out but he still wasn't tall enough so he jumped, hoisting himself up with the shelf in an attempt to snatch a bowl down instead – big mistake. With a loud rip the shelf came free from the back of the cabinet, dropping its load of bowls and glasses which quickly shattered all around him. Now he would have to buy some more. Great – _more _expenditure. Sighing, he stepped backwards to survey the damage – plunging his heel into a sharp piece of glass as he did so. He swore, the sight of blood making him lose his appetite. Already feeling the day taking a negative turn, he decided to head straight to work.

"Are you alright?" Roy asked as Marth limped into the café.

"Hi Roy," Marth muttered back, working his way around the counter.

"Why are you limping?" Roy persisted.

"I accidentally smashed some bowls and glasses at home and trod in some of the wreckage.. My foot hurts."

"Ow. You want me to take a look at it?"

Marth looked up at him, surprised at the genuine concern in his voice.

"Erm…ok."

"Come on up to the staffroom." Roy put an arm around him and helped him up the stairs. Marth didn't really need the support, but the physical contact was nice so he didn't object. They sat down on one of the sofas in the staffroom and Marth removed the shoe and sock from the offending foot so that Roy could look at it.

"Oooh. That's nasty."

"What is it?" Marth fidgeted nervously.

"You've got a large chunk of glass stuck in your heel. Didn't you look at this at all?"

"I don't like the sight of blood," Marth explained. "Didn't you know that?"

"No – why would I?"

"It's one of my biggest hates – you know, like I hate things being left on standby."

"You hate things being left on standby? Why?"

"It wastes electricity, of course."

Roy stood up, left the room for a moment then came back with a damp cloth which he gently dabbed Marth's foot with.

"So you didn't know I hate seeing blood and stuff on standby?" Marth continued, somewhat distracted by the feeling of Roy's warm hand on his foot.

"No."

"But I've worked here for two years!" Marth cried.

Roy gave a small smile. "We don't speak _that_ much, you know."

Marth was about to deny it when he realised Roy was right. Because of his crush on Roy he'd never had the confidence to speak to him naturally, certainly not for any length of time anyway. He only assumed a casual air with Roy now because being offered a one night stand by a handsome stranger kind of overshadowed the relatively small thrill of talking to a work colleague he'd always fancied a bit.

"Sorry," he apologised. "We don't really, do we?"

"It's ok. Besides, you're so quiet normally. It's good to talk at last."

_At last?_ Roy had wanted to talk to him _before_? He put on a smile. "Ask me anything you like." As soon as he'd said it he regretted his words. What if Roy asked him something really personal? Roy, evidently playing on this idea, leant closer to Marth, smiling, but all he eventually said was,

"Shall I take the glass out of your foot or do you want to?"

All Marth's disappointed adrenalin rushed to his vocal chords. "G…g…g-g-go ahead."

"Ok. 3…2…1…" Roy pinched the glass fragment firmly before pulling it out.

"OUCH!" Marth flinched reflexively.

Roy presented the bloody piece of glass to Marth triumphantly before remembering he hated the sight of blood. Marth paled dramatically.

"Urgh…Th-that is g-g-gross."

Roy threw the glass away and after cleaning the wound put a large plaster on it.

"There."

"Th-thanks." Deep breaths. Don't stammer – Roy's noticing.

"No problem. It's a pretty deep cut but it should heal nicely."

"Ok." Marth stood up and gingerly walked back downstairs.

One they were both downstairs, just as the first customer was walking in, Roy mused,

"I do actually have another question."

All the adrenalin rushed from Marth's vocal chords back down to his stomach.

"Are you free tonight?"

_Oh. My. God._ _Ok, deal with the customer first._

"How can I help you?"

The customer made his order whilst Roy continued,

"I know a good Chinese takeaway and football highlights will be on. We could make an evening of it."

"That'll be £1.60 please." Ok, that sounded wrong.

"So what do you think?" Roy persisted.

"Your drink will be with you shortly." And that sounded even worse. Marth turned to address Roy properly.

"Well, I don't know…" _Marth, what are you doing? Of course you know._ "I mean…"

"Yeah I don't really know you. Sorry." Roy shrugged and grinned.

_No, NOOO… Yeah, you really screwed that one up Marth._ But the moment had gone. Too shy to bring it back again, Marth turned to the next customer.

Work ended with possible the worst day's job satisfaction _ever_. Frustrated and angry with himself, Marth returned home to clean up the broken mess from the morning. It was only once he'd finished he realised he had a message waiting on his answerphone. Could it be Roy refreshing his offer? Marth pressed a button and waited.

"Hello Marth, it's me, Ike Greil. Yeah look I just realised how it must have sounded when I said for you the alternate price of all your walls being painted was one night with me. I just meant… well I might be at risk of making it sound worse now, but being an artist is a lonely job. I was sort of hoping you'd come round for a pizza and a go at Fifa on the PS2 with me or something. Anyway, sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. Bye!"

The message ended but Marth continued to stare at the phone. Well that was _wonderful_. Not only had he smashed some bowls and missed out on an evening with Roy because of his own stupid shyness, he'd paid £260 for a single wall painting when Ike would have painted the lot for nothing more than a boy's night in! Seizing the phone furiously, he resolved to fix the last of these errors immediately. He _could_ spend a night with Ike, _and_ have his walls painted _and_ get a refund for the £260 he hadn't really been able to spend. Ike answered on the fifth ring.

"Hello Ike Greil speaking."

"Hello. It's me, Marth."

"Oh yeah. Look I'm really sorry about my mis-phrasing the other day. It really wasn't intended."

"It's ok. I was just wondering – now that I understand what you meant is the offer still there?"

"The offer? _Oh_ – the paint all your walls one. Yeah, sure."

"Great. Well then I'll accept."

"Awesome. When can you come over?"

Marth tried to eradicate the dodgier thoughts entering his mind as he replied, "Well I'm free tonight."

"Cool – come over whenever you like."

"Where do you live?"

"It's on the business card I gave you."

"Right, ok."

"See you later then." Ike hung up. Marth, feeling a little nervous that he had just arranged to meet up with a relative stranger for the evening, headed up to his room to think. He wanted to ponder his relationship with Roy, and how he was going to take things further, but in the end he simply ended up wondering if Ike would be topless again. Or at least wearing an open shirt, like the first time they had met in the café. But probably just topless.

* * *

**So, an evening with Ike coming up... Please review! Thanks!**


	4. One night

He was. This time the accompaniment to his bare chest was even less – just frayed denim shorts and green fuzzy slippers. Feeling overdressed even though he was only wearing a t-shirt and jeans, Marth stepped into the spacious hallway and closed the door behind him.

"Hey. Nice to see you." The warmth in Ike's voice was so friendly and genuine Marth felt guilty for ever reading into his offer of 'one night'.

"Come on through into the lounge. I'll just order the pizza and I'll be right with you."

Marth took off his trainers and wandered through the house, slowly heading for where he guessed was the lounge. Paintings hung everywhere, largely abstract or modern, but in some places stunningly real including a particularly superb panoramic one of leaping dolphins. He stared at it for some time, admiring the quality of the image.

"That's one of my favourites," Ike informed him, making Marth jump.

"Didn't realise you were there."

"No problem – I've ordered the pizza – lounge is this way."

They both walked through into the lounge.

"Wow." And he had thought the _dolphin_ painting was something. And it had been. But the lounge was…

"Rather nice, huh?" joked Ike.

Marth blinked, but the lounge remained intact. "Wow," he repeated.

The whole thing was beach themed. Each wall was painted from top to bottom in impeccable detail. One wall was a night time beach scene, with a stunning sunset and silhouetted palm trees forming the backdrop for two twisted metal bookcases and a flat screen TV. The far end wall with the window had been painted to show colourful beach huts receding into a distant beach at the peak of midday sun, and beneath the window a few different coloured beanbags lay, their bright colours matching the beach huts behind them. The wall opposite the TV screen was another daytime beach scene, but below this a long stone tray had been placed against the wall and filled with water which reflected the late sunlight onto the wall in dappled patched of light. In front of this a dark blue organically shaped sofa sat, with plump Matisse-style inspired cushions on it suggesting luxurious comfort. And finally the remaining wall was painted like many seashells, but at least 70% of this particular wall was taken up with a gigantic sliding patio door letting light into the room from the back end of the house.

"Wow," Marth repeated for the third time.

"Thanks," Ike replied, pride in his voice.

"How long did it take you?"

Ike thought for a moment. "Not sure. I've done it in sections." He shrugged. "You're the first one to see it like this you know. It used to be field-based rather than beach-based."

Marth had never felt more ashamed of his Magnolia walls. Ike seemed to pick up on his mood.

"Guess it must seem really outrageous compared to your place," he commented. "Or indeed many places. But I never really come in here, so it's a bit of a dead room." He indicated for Marth to sit down before sitting down next to him and switching on the TV. Marth, who was staring down at the carpet still in shame of his Magnolia walls, realised that even the carpet was a sandy colour in keeping with the beach-theme. _£1050_. Having seen this place Marth thought that figure now sounded like a bloody bargain.

"Did you want to watch the football then?" Ike asked.

_But he wasn't going to do it for £1050. He was going to do it in exchange for just one night of Marth's company. Why? He must get really lonely, _Marth thought.

"Well?" Ike prompted.

"Er…ok." He didn't really like football. It was boring. But how could he say that? Ike selected the channel and they watched the football for a few minutes in silence. Marth, feeling awkward, wanted to break it. But what could he say? The first thing that came to mind was to ask for his £260 back, but that now seemed insulting and he couldn't bring himself to say it, even though he needed the money.

"What do you like?" Ike asked suddenly.

"What?" Marth's heart skipped a beat as he automatically misinterpreted the question.

"Sorry, to general. Um…what's your favourite flavour of ice cream?"

"Strawberry."

"Favourite TV show?"

"QI."

"Favourite colour?"

"Blue." Was this some sort of interrogation?

"Best film?"

"Dunno."

"Favourite artist?"

_You_. "Er…I don't know any artists."

Ike smiled.

"Famous ones."

Ike frowned.

"Yet?" Marth tried, feeling that if he had to say any more he would throw up butterflies. Ike smiled again.

"Sorry about the interrogation I couldn't think of anything to say but I do have 'The Matrix' fancy watching it?" he rushed.

"The Matrix?"

"Yeah." Ike stood up and went over to one of the shelves, browsed a moment and then pulled the DVD free.

"What is it?"

"You mean you've never heard of 'The Matrix'?"

Marth shook his head.

And so they ended up eating pizza and watching 'The Matrix', interrupted sporadically by comments from Ike – sometimes simple, sometimes profound, sometimes completely irrelevant. But never boring. Ike was strange, both introverted and yet confident, and filled with eccentricities that varied from the genius of his ability with paint to small things like always wearing odd socks. And in one of the pauses where Marth was contemplating all this, Ike asked,

"Can I paint you?"

"Paint me?"

Ike nodded. "Your face is the perfect borderline between masculine and feminine – it's quite extraordinary."

Marth stared at him, waiting for the one brain cell that controlled social tact in Ike's brain to kick in. At length it did.

"I didn't mean to insult you," Ike apologised. "But may I paint a portrait of you?"

Marth didn't' reply, unsure as to how he felt about it. He thought of Ike's lounge. _One night. This is the price I'm going to pay to make my house a masterpiece._ He nodded. Ike, filled with a sudden surge of energy, rushed upstairs to get painting equipment.

Once he returned downstairs he positioned a chair opposite the sofa and told Marth to sit down whilst he sat on the sofa wielding a small canvas, mixing paint and planning out positioning. After a moment he said,

"You're too far away. Move closer."

Marth obediently pulled his chair closer to the sofa.

"Closer."

Marth pulled the chair closer.

"Closer," Ike insisted.

There wasn't much closer the chair could go. Marth did his best.

"Closer," Ike complained.

"I can't," Marth pointed out.

"Yes you can."

Marth looked at Ike, at his lap, then at Ike again. Nervously, hoping that he hadn't misunderstood, he moved so that he was sitting sideways on Ike's lap, turning his head so Ike could see his face.

"Better." Ike turned Marth's shoulders so he was facing him more fully then began to proceed with his painting. Marth could only look back at him, awkward. He couldn't help remembering at that point his original interpretation of the 'one night' offer, nor could he ignore the fact this was the closest to Ike he'd ever been. He could feel the warmth of Ike's thighs beneath him, and the feelings of attraction he'd managed to forget about during the film came back to him once more. If anything the casual conversation and relatively normal evening they'd had so far had only served to intensify Marth's preference to Ike, and no thoughts of Roy could push them away. He couldn't believe only his jeans were stopping his legs from touching Ike's…

Ike didn't like the way the painting was going. Marth was tense and nervous and that wasn't an expression Ike wanted to capture. It spoilt the balance of masculine and feminine in Marth's face; turned it more towards masculine, awkward and severe. Ike had to do something to fix the balance or his perfect portrait would be ruined. Marth wasn't looking _at_ him, he was looking _through_ him, wishing he was somewhere else. Damn, what was Ike supposed to do – pinch him? Both his hands were full – one held the canvas, the other the paintbrush. That left what – head-butting? Ouch, no. Hang on, he had it…

Acting on impulse, Ike leaned forward and pressed his lips to Marth's. It was only a quick touch and then he pulled away. But Marth's expression was one of complete shock. He went pale, and then as a hint of a blush crept into his cheeks he quickly got off Ike's lap, and unable to meet his eyes, raced for the front door.

Well that hadn't gone quite as planned, Ike reflected. But he had seen the perfect expression, if only for a second, and his photographic memory had it captured. So Ike continued to paint, working into the early house of the morning long after his model had gone.

Marth woke without really having slept, automatically hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock which had finally reached 07:00. Rubbing his eyes he looked around his room in the weak light that spoke of morning drizzle. The pattern Ike had painted on the wall immediately stuck his eye. He hadn't gotten Ike out of his mind. He couldn't pinpoint why he was so offended Ike had kissed him, but he was and he couldn't forget it, nor could his lips. Why had he let it happen?

He stumbled out of bed and headed downstairs. His mind was in turmoil – he needed to speak to someone. But the only person he could think of was Roy, and they weren't even that close… He'd realised that the other day when Roy had pulled the shard of glass out of his foot. Sighing, he was about to head for the kitchen when he noticed a piece of paper by the front door. Odd, the post never normally came that early. He reached down and picked it up.

_Dear Marth,_

_ Check the doormat._

He didn't recognise the handwriting. The only thing on the doormat was the note, he thought. Then – _Oh, the __**outside**__ doormat._ He opened the front door. A brown package about as large as a folder sat on his front doorstep. Wow – he couldn't remember the last time he'd got a gift via mail before. Retreating back into the house, he tore open the package eagerly. And then froze.

"Oh my…"

It was a painting of him. _The_ painting of him. He knew instantly that it was the portrait Ike had started the night before. Bur surely he couldn't have painted such an astonishing likeness in such a short space of time? And what's more, he could only guess at the moment when he had worn that expression…

Slowly he carried the canvas through into the kitchen, still staring at it. His perfect likeness looked back at him, eyes wide and innocent, lips slightly parted in surprise and the slightest hint of a blush creeping into his cheeks… It was him just after Ike had kissed him. He knew it for certain. Looking at it brought his mind back to the intimacy of that moment as clear as if it had only just happened. He had held that expression for what – a second at most? How had Ike captured it so perfectly? And why had he given it to him? No, he couldn't think of this now. He would go to work and distract himself, think of it later.

"Marth."

_What had Ike wanted to say by giving him the portrait?_

"Marth? Hello? That's the second latte you've made accidentally. Only a filter coffee, remember?" That was Roy, reminding him where he was.

"Oh right. Yeah, sorry."

"Are you alright? You seem kinda distracted."

Marth didn't reply. _Filter coffee…_

"And you know that's like the twentieth time you've wiped your lips already."

_Was he doing that? Oh god, he was, wasn't he?_ The more he wiped them the more sensitive they felt, the more Marth wanted to remove the sensation, the more he wiped.

"If they're chapped I can lend you some Vaseline," Roy suggested.

Marth wasn't really listening.

"Or I could kiss them better."

At the word 'kiss' Marth's mind and stomach were jolted firmly back to the present. With great trepidation he met Roy's eye. His might thought furiously for a moment longer, then he gasped.

"What is it?" asked Roy.

_You. You're the reason I was so offended Ike kissed me. I was waiting for __**you**_.

"Marth?" With a slight smile Roy stepped closer to him and put his hands gently on Marth's shoulders, then bent his head closer to Marth's, his intentions obvious.

"No. Not in here in front of everyone." Embarrassed, Marth pulled away a little.

"In private then?" Roy raised an eyebrow. Was Roy actually _flirting_ with him? Bloody hell. Before he could say another word Roy took him by the elbow and led him away to the staffroom, where he closed the door behind them.

"Better?"

"Marth took a shaky breath. "Better." _Worse, much worse,_ said his stomach. Roy began to approach him again. With one hand he cupped Marth's face.

"You are so shy…" he commented. He moved closer until less than an inch separated them.

"B-but…" Marth objected. "We hardly talk!"

"Doesn't meant we can't open our mouths." Roy smiled.

"I hardly know you! I didn't realise you liked me!"

"Well you know now." Roy leant closer still. "Don't you want to kiss me?"

"W-well…" _Only two whole years I've wanted that. _"Yes… and no."

Roy frowned and leant back, sighing. "What do you mean, _'and no'_?"

"I want… I want more than that." Any stranger could kiss him, as Ike had proved. But Roy – he'd fancied Roy for two years. If he was going to get a happy ending out of this he wanted more than just a kiss.

"What do you want?" asked Roy gently.

_Forever,_ was Marth's initial romantic thought. _Or at least some sort of long term wooing._ But of course he couldn't say that out loud, everything seemed to be rushing too fast as it was. Roy was still waiting for an answer. _Come on Marth, speak_.

"One night," he blurted out.

* * *

**Oh _Marth. _****Please review! Thanks!**


	5. Two's company, three's interesting

**Thanks to ADashOfInsanity, BunnyFleur, IlikeYuki, Fire and Ice will always love, and Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki for reviewing so far! Roy takes an interesting turn at the end of this chapter... enjoy!  
**

* * *

Roy blinked several times and gave a small laugh. "What?"

"I m-mean," Marth stammered, "One evening. You know, to hang out?"

"Right."

"So I can get to know you better." Marth fiddled with his hair nervously.

"Like a date?" asked Roy.

"S'pose so, yeah." He blushed.

"I prefer the way you first suggested it."

Marth blushed even deeper, not knowing what to say.

Roy coughed. "So are you free this evening?"

_Deep breaths. _"Yes."

"Great." Roy shrugged.

They arranged to meet at 7.30pm and Marth gave Roy his address before heading back to work. Now _he _needed a filter coffee.

Well that had been unexpected. Marth headed home elated. He was going to spend an evening with Roy! He almost skipped as he reached his front door.

It was unlocked. Assuming he must have forgotten to lock it when he'd left the house in the morning; Marth pushed down the door handle and went in.

"Ah, hello. I was wondering when you'd get back."

"What are you doing here?"

Ike wandered over to him, once more topless, this time with baggy frayed jeans to accompany.

"Painting your walls of course."

Oh yeah. He'd forgotten that side of their bargain.

"How did you get in?"

"You keep your spare key under the _doormat._"

"Why didn't you wait?"

"I did for a bit and then I got bored so I figured I might as well start searching for the spare key."

Marth stared at him. "You broke into my house."

"I needed to attack the Magnolia."

Marth suppressed a smile, shook his head and wandered through into the kitchen, following the smell of fresh paint.

"Like it?" Ike asked from behind him. Marth looked at the end wall, on which three chillies had been painted, fading through from a red chilli on the left to a green chilli on the right. An abstract green wavy line then ran over all the kitchen cabinets on the wall on the green chilli side of the room.

"Nice."

"Thank you."

"Is it finished?"

"Still a bit more to add."

"My friend is coming round at 7.30 – will you be done by then?"

"Not sure. Can't I just hand around until I finish? I'll stay out of your way."

Marth though about it for a moment. "Alright. See you in a moment, I'm going to get changed."

Upstairs he searched his wardrobe for something appropriate to wear. Trouble was, if he dressed up for dressed up for Roy he would feel overdressed next to Ike, but if he dressed down for Ike he would feel underdressed next to Roy. And if he just dressed normally he wouldn't fit in with either of them. He looked at the clock. 6:32. hang on, what if he dressed down to feel more comfortable with Ike _now_, and then dressed up again before Roy arrived? Genius. He changed out of his uniform and pulled on some jeans. He felt awkward topless – exposed. But if he wore a top he knew he would feel overdressed as he had before. Trying to convince himself it was no big deal, Marth headed back downstairs.

When he reached the kitchen Ike turned around and noticing he was topless, took a good and undisguised look at him. Marth squirmed inwardly under his gaze, instantly regretting his decision to go topless and fighting the urge to dash back upstairs and grab a jumper.

Ike crossed the space between them in three long strides and took him by the shoulders. Marth, having only a second to react, braced himself to be kissed, but Ike only pushed his shoulders down and out, before moving one hand to lift his chin up.

"Wear your skin as if it is clothing," Ike commanded him.

"What?"

"You're obviously topless to appear more casual but you're not actually _acting_ casual, and so it isn't working. So do as I say. Your skin is like a t-shirt – you needn't take any notice of it, just operate as normal." He put his hands under Marth's armpits and then jerked upwards, forcing Marth to momentarily straighten his spin.

"Stand tall. Exposing chest should be no more awkward than exposing arms or legs. Go on. Stand tall, shoulders back, chin up."

Bewildered, Marth obeyed. Ike gave him a quick look over.

"Alright. Now come and help me with some painting." The quick tuition on posture ended as abruptly as it had started and Ike wandered over to the sink, beckoning Marth over. Slowly Marth followed.

"Place your hand up against the wall just behind the sink there."

Marth did so.

"Now keep it there I'm gong to paint it."

"Why do I need to put my hand on the wall for you to paint it?"

"I'm not painting your hand I'm painting a picture of your hand in that position on the wall next to it."

"What for?"

"You'll see." Ike began painting and silence filled the kitchen. Eventually Marth broke it.

"What do you like?"

"What?"

Marth smiled. "You interrogated me the other evening, starting with that."

"Oh yes." Ike's focus was on his painting.

"Why?" Marth persisted.

"To break the ice."

_Oh. So not in order to find out about him then._ Marth tried not to be disappointed.

"Why did you offer me one night as payment for all this work? Why did you give me the portrait you did of me? Why did you kiss me?" The questions tumbled out of him, his final question barely more than a whisper.

"I kissed you so that I could have a decent portrait to paint. I gave the portrait to you because it was of you. I offered you the option of spending a night with me as payment because I didn't want to charge you as you seem nice and I wanted to do it as a gift but feared that you might be offended by it and see it as an act of charity or assume that if I offered it free there must be some dodgy underlying motive." He laughed. "Of course, that backfired a bit, didn't it? In trying to seem inoffensive in one way I ended up accidentally saying something much worse."

Marth stared at him. His eccentric logic did make some sort of sense, though a little shaky in places.

"The question is," Ike continued, "Why are you asking?"

The casual delivery of such a serious question took Marth's breath away. Ike smiled and answered it himself.

"You thought I might have done those thing because I fancied you?"

"You did kiss me," Marth pointed out. Ike didn't reply and continued painting in silence. Marth, unable to think of anything else to say, just watched him. And then the clock. And then Ike again. It looked like Ike was painting an image of his hand splattering into spaghetti Bolognese or some similar spaghetti dish. It was super-realistic and deadly serious in detail, yet the positioning of it in Marth's kitchen made it quirky.

After almost an hour of stunning painting and conversation on other topics Ike had finished, and they both stopped for tea and biscuits. After 5 minutes of excruciating silence Marth said,

"That's a really good painting."

"Thanks." Ike smiled. Marth took a deep breath.

"And I'm sorry about assuming you had an ulterior motive to doing things."

Ike's smile broadened and he turned his head to face Marth fully. "I didn't do those things because I fancy you."

Marth opened his mouth to acknowledge this but Ike put a finger to his lips.

"But I do fancy you."

_Oh hell._ But before he could think of a reply the doorbell rang. Marth rushed to answer it, too eager of the distraction to remember who it would be.

"Oh. Hi Roy."

"Hi."

Marth suddenly recalled that he was bare-chested. "C-come in, I'll be back in a second." He dashed upstairs.

Having pulled on a plain white top he re-greeted Roy downstairs. Ike minded them both watchfully. Wary of this, Marth led Roy through into the lounge so that they could leave Ike alone to paint in the kitchen. Marth also needed to be away from Ike so that he could let what Ike had just told him sink in before he thought of a reply.

"You didn't need to a put a top on for me," Roy informed him. "I didn't mind."

"Well…" Marth shrugged. Being topless with Ike was one thing – topless was Ike's dress code – but being topless with Roy would be something different, more personal somehow.

"And wasn't that the artist guy in your kitchen?" Roy asked.

"Yeah. I asked him to paint my walls."

"Nice."

"There was no colour in my house before."

"I see."

"Yeah. All my walls were painted Magnolia."

Roy shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with Magnolia."

"_What._"

They both turned to see Ike standing in the doorway, glaring at Roy as if he was about to challenge him to a duel.

"It's a nice, clean colour," Roy argued.

"_Nice?_ Perhaps as a background to something better or in moderation it is _tolerable_, but to fill whole rooms with _nothing but_? Plain. Disgusting. Intolerable."

Marth suppressed a laugh.

"I don't think anyone ever pays much attention to the colour of walls. Magnolia is nice and unobtrusive, and gives a light, pleasant feel to a room." Roy argued back in a dismissive tone that said both 'I'm right' as well as 'but this argument is pointless'.

"Well no one's going to pay any attention to the walls for sure if they're painted _Magnolia._ Walls are wonderful things. You can use them to express yourself without taking up any space in the room. They can help to create an atmosphere." Unlike Roy, Ike argued passionately, as if not only to convince him but somehow everyone in the world with Magnolia walls at the same time.

"I think Magnolia gives a pleasant neutral atmosphere. What do you think Marth?" Roy turned to him. Marth, surprised at the sudden appeal for his opinion, thought for a moment, unwilling to go against either of them. Eventually he addressed Ike.

"I thought you were meant to be painting my kitchen."

"Indeed. You butted into our conversation quite rudely," Roy added. Ike showed no change of composure at the accusation, and replied to Marth,

"I know, but I was unsure whether you might need the kitchen to prepare dinner for you and your guest."

_Oh shoot, he hadn't thought of that._ "Right. Yes, I will need it, thank you." He turned to Roy. "Sorry, forgive me for forgetting to cook in advance. Let me just go to the loo first." With which he quickly slipped out of the room and headed upstairs.

As soon as he was safely gone Roy got up from the sofa and walked up to Ike.

"You keep your hands off Marth, you understand?"

"What?"

"Don't play innocent. How dare you talk Marth into taking his shirt off when he is obviously uncomfortable with it?"

"I didn't talk him into it –"

"So you took it off for him, did you?"

"He took it off himself! I had nothing to do with it."

"I want you to leave him alone."

"He paid for me to paint all his walls, and that's what I'll do."

"And how much does all this painting cost, may I ask?"

"£1050."

"You charged him £1050? Just for painting some stupid walls?"

"Would you prefer me not to charge him?"

"Yes!"

"Very well. I'll remove all charges. But I'll still do the work."

Roy narrowed his eyes at Ike, realising that if Ike did remove the charge the painted walls would act as a gift to Marth and only endear Ike to him.

"Well…I'm not saying do it for _free_ exactly – but do it for less. £1050 is extortionate."

"How dare you! _Art_," Ike spat disdainfully, "Does not sell with a 50% off _special deal_. It's either £1050 or nothing."

"Why would you do it for free? I don't trust your motives. No, you can tell Marth _I _am footing the bill for this. And once the work is done I want you gone you understand?"

Ike didn't reply.

"_You understand?_"

Ike still didn't reply.

"I don't have my chequebook on me but I'll send you a cheque in the post. What's your address?"

Ike handed him a business card silently. Roy took it from him.

"You keep away from Marth." When Ike made no response to his threat Roy walked away; just as Marth was leaving the bathroom upstairs.


	6. A progression of awkwardness

**So, an upcoming evening with Roy, Marth and Ike all together. What a happy family. Thanks to ADashOfInsanity, ShabalbaIggy, IlikeYuki and Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki for reviewing :) **

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The evening quickly resumed as though nothing had happened. Marth, ignorant of the conversation that had gone on was oblivious to the newfound tension and went about trying to cook something for dinner. As he mixed ingredients he talked casually to Roy of work and other trivialities. He'd decided to make stuffed roast pork with mash and vegetables, and once the pork was in the over Marth left it to go into the lounge to sit, chat, and pass the time. Roy followed him and after a brief hesitation, so did Ike.

"I don't think there's anything on TV," Marth sighed, after a few minutes of flicking through the channels.

"Doesn't matter. Film or something? We could watch, I dunno… 'The Matrix', if you have it."

Marth smiled, remembering how Ike had suggested the same film only last night.

"No, I don't have it, I'm sorry." Marth looked to Ike who met his eye briefly, sharing the irony. _He fancies me. I can't believe he fancies me._

"Ah. Well what film _do_ you have?"

Marth shrugged and pointed at the neat stack of DVDs arranged below the television. "Have a look."

Roy got up to inspect the collection and after a while selected Hot Fuzz and put it in the DVD player before sitting down beside Marth, who pressed play before turning to Ike.

"Are you joining us?"

Ike, who seemed to be seizing up one of the walls, turned to face them in surprise. "Ok," he agreed.

All three of them sat side by side on the sofa, Marth in the middle. Feeling awkward with one attractive man either side of him, Marth realised this was something else he hadn't thought through. They watched the first 15 minutes of the film in silence, until Roy decided to make things even more awkward.

"Boiling in here, isn't it?" he announced, and with that, he removed his shirt.

The wait from this point until the point where the pork was ready was, for Marth, excruciating. He had never seen Roy's bare chest before and trying to resist looking at it was just as hard as trying to ogle it discretely. Out of the corner of his eye his judged it to be slightly less muscled than Ike's, though by no means deficient. But trying to look at Roy's chest was only part of Marth's problem. Sitting between two attractive bare-chested men who wouldn't mind kissing him and being unable to kiss either of them due to the presence of the other was sheer agony. What's more, the size of the sofa meant that Marth could not help but brush arms with the two men, and the slight heated touch was the final straw in ensuring he paid absolutely no attention to the film.

Finally the pork was ready and Marth left the sofa to go into the kitchen and serve it. He made three dishes, assuming Ike was staying, but when he returned to the lounge Ike was nowhere to be seen. Roy informed him Ike had left to go home.

"Oh."

"He didn't give a reason. You didn't cook dinner for him did you?"

Marth nodded.

"God, he should have at least have stayed to eat it then. Shame to waste it. Still, never mind."

Marth sat down and they both tucked into the food.

Once they had both finished and the plates had been cleared away Roy took the opportunity to say,

"Can I have that kiss now?"

The sudden question took Marth totally unprepared. "Um…"

"Come on, it's the end of the evening. A kiss before I say goodbye?"

"I…"

Roy leant towards Marth but Marth held him back.

"What do you want?" Roy protested.

"Romance," Marth whispered. It wasn't meant to be this way, with Roy just asking for a kiss and being granted one. He'd waited two years and this was meant to be the start of a lovely relationship, not just a passionate fling.

"A kiss _is_ romantic," Roy argued.

"Well…"

"Ssshhh." Roy closed his mouth over Marth's, silencing any further objections. Marth allowed himself to be kissed, but soon realised that when he gave even a little bit Roy took the encouragement rather too strongly, and Marth knew that if he didn't put a stop to it the night would not end up as Marth had wanted it to.

Prising himself free of Roy's arms Marth stepped away, forcing a small smile onto his face.

"Goodbye then."

"Goodbye." Obviously unsatisfied, Roy turned and left. Marth, unwilling to think about it, headed to bed.

Saturday arrived at last. It didn't have the same thrill as it had had in Marth's school days, as some Saturdays he had to work, but this particular Saturday he was free and he rejoiced in it. However, having the day to himself was an impossibility. At the very least Ike would be coming over to continue the painting, and to complicate things further it was also Roy's Saturday off, which naturally resulted in a phone call from him, asking if Marth wanted to hang out in town. Marth declined, worried that Roy would only want to continue what he'd started the previous night.

He spent the morning in his room reading, enjoying the peace and quiet until Ike arrived. The thought of Ike distracted him from his book. The point over Ike fancying him hadn't been resolved, but hopefully the passage of time made his reply less necessary. A more pressing matter was how he was going to cope financially until his next pay day. The idea of asking Ike for his £260 back still seemed too rude, but how else could he cope? Was there something he could sell? He thought for a moment. And then it occurred to him – he could sell Ike's painting. He didn't know how much it was worth but it could surely help. He thought about it – he couldn't just sell it on eBay, no artist fanatics would spot it _there_. Could he somehow put it in a modern art auction?

After half an hour online searching the deed was done. All he had to do was turn up at the auction house and collect the money afterwards. The best part of it was that the auction would be taking place that very afternoon. However it was quite a way away and they wanted all the stock in there as soon as possible, meaning that Marth had to leave preferably as soon as possible, accounting for traffic and potential train delays. He felt a little bit guilty about selling Ike's gift to him, but he needed the money.

In the auction house Marth waited nervously for his painting to come up. He was wearing dark sunglasses and a hat to stop anyone from recognising the painting was a portrait of him, and as no one had approached him so far he assumed the disguise was working. Ok, this was his one. It seemed strange seeing it held up by the presenting guy.

"Ok, next up is a recent portrait by upcoming artist Ike Greil, signed bottom right. We start the bidding at £200," the auctioneer announced. Marth had but £200 as the reserve amount, as ideally he was hoping for his £260 back. But he had no idea how much the painting was actually worth. He'd already been hanging around for a good 2 hours as people had browsed through the items before the auction and was getting tired.

"£200 I have, £250? £250, £300, £350. £350 to the man at the back. Do I see £400?" There was a long pause. "At £350 with the man at the back. Going once…"

Marth was elated. £350!

"£400 to the lady in the green coat," the auctioneer continued. "£450? £450, £500, £750, £1000 to the man at the back. Do I have any advances on £1000?"

_Ok, this was more than he'd bargained for._

"£1500 I see. £2000, £2500. Any more offers? Yes – £3000 new bidder here at the front."

_Oh god._

"£3500 at the back. £4000, £4500 to the lady in the green coat. Do I see £5000?" There was a long pause. Marth felt ill.

"£5000 to the man at the back. Any advances on £5000? Going once…"

Marth swayed slightly.

"Going twice…" The hammer went down. "Sold to the man at the back for £5000. For our next lot…"

_£5000._ What had he done? He stumbled his was towards the back of the hall, trying to find the man who had paid so much for the picture. But it looked like the man had slipped out discreetly after his purchase and was nowhere to be seen. Taking deep breaths Marth headed for some fresh air as the figure began to sink in.

£5000.

_£5000!_

Five thousand pounds.

By the time he returned home he was still no less in shock. It was more money than he could have ever dreamt of getting. The morning seemed a lifetime away – something that had happened in another dimension. Part of him wanted to leap for joy, the other part was gasping for breath under £5000 worth of guilt. And of course as soon as he entered the lounge, who should be there but the artist himself, seizing up his fireplace.

"Oh. Hey Marth."

"Hi." _You've given me £6050 worth of painting in total. For free._

"Out enjoying the sunshine were you?"

Marth nodded, unable to speak. Even though Ike had given him the painting in the first place, which surely left Marth to do as he pleased with it, he still felt bad about selling it, as if the money wasn't his to have. But how could he give Ike the money without admitting that he'd sold the painting? And if he did give the money to Ike he'd have the same problem as before of being £260 out of pocket.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine," Marth lied. "Shall I leave you to paint?"

Ike shrugged. "I can multitask. Stay and chat, unless you have something else to do."

"No, not –" At that moment the phone rang.

"You do now," Ike joked as Marth answered.

"Hey Marth. Haven't spoken for a while."

"Elisse! How's the baby?"

"I knew you were going to ask me that. The baby's just fine, thanks. I can't believe you didn't call earlier."

"Why?"

"_Marth!_ It's my due date. You've only been obsessing over it for like, forever."

"Oh my god! I totally forgot!"

"S'alright bro, don't panic. This little one's quite happy as it is. Doctors never get due dates right anyway, it's just a rough guess."

"True."

"Tell you what though – it's kicking like hell, the little blighter. Don't suppose you could get that artist guy who painted my belly last time to come over, could you? I remember that worked."

Was she psychic? "He's over here now actually."

"Oh _hello_. So _that's_ why you were so distracted that you forgot my due date."

"Elisse, it's not like that." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ike turn towards him in interest.

"Come on, he's fit, right? You can't hide from me, I remember he had a six-pack."

"No, you've got it all wrong – he's been painting my walls."

"Is _that_ what you call it now?" Elisse teased.

"_Elisse!_"

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry alright? But if you can spare your walls could you possibly persuade him to come and paint my belly?"

"Um, I don't know…" If Ike did any more free painting on his account he didn't think he could take it.

"Ah, well never mind. I don't mind the kicking _that_ much. But is he nice?"

"What?"

"The artist, of course. You must have talked to him a bit."

"Yes, I suppose he's nice," Marth muttered, supremely aware of Ike listening in.

"Nice and fit and gay. I say go get him!"

"Elisse, please."

"What, is he married?"

"No, he isn't."

"Has a boyfriend then?"

"No…"

"So he's fit and nice and gay _and _single. Marth, it's one in a million. Grab him."

"I'll bear that in mind."

"Anyway I must dash there's a programme I want to catch on telly. Bye!"

"Bye." Marth hung up.

"Were you talking about me?" Ike teased. Marth looked at him. Hearing Elisse's recommendation only made things more awkward.

"Yes," he admitted.

"And what does she say?"

"She wants you to paint her belly again."

"Well I'd be welcome to. When's the baby due?"

"Today."

"Really?" Ike laughed. Marth nodded. They continued to talk whilst Ike painted, lazily killing time until the next tea break.

* * *

**Elisse, no offense, but I don't think you're helping. :P Keep reviewing! Thanks!**


	7. A rose by any other price

**Does a rose by any other price still smell as sweet? This chapter is quite short, but I'll make up for it in the next chapter ;) Thank you to ADashOfInsanity, Kufuffelupagus, AlteaAuroraRia and Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki for reviewing! Reviews really do keep me going :) **

* * *

After lunch the lounge was done. Around the fire place the wall was painted in a beautiful shade of sunset which blended out either side to a bright yellow which blended into a paler and paler yellow around the rest of the room.

"Just the bathroom and the other bedroom to do now," Ike informed Marth.

"How long will that take?"

"I should have it done by the end of tomorrow."

Marth's sudden disappointment took him by surprise. "Ok."

"Thanks for letting me get rid of some Magnolia."

Marth laughed. "You're welcome."

"Mind if I take a break for now and stroll round your garden?"

"Um…sure."

They both walked into the garden, Ike stretching dramatically like a contented cat. Without speaking he headed out at a leisurely stroll around the edge of the garden, humming to himself. Marth, watching him, noticed for the first time how the shadows under his eyes had deepened. He must have been working late, Marth thought. Ike turned around, surprised to see Marth standing still by the patio door.

"Won't you walk with me?"

"Sure."

Marth caught up with him as he was coming round the back of the garden. Ike, pausing to admire some roses, suddenly asked,

"Do you ever wonder what it's like to be pregnant?"

"Um…"

"You know, like fat in a nice way. And with cravings and mood swings and stuff."

Marth laughed. "You say the randomest things."

"Mmmm. Here, have a rose." Ike pulled one free from the climbing rose on the back fence and tucked it gently behind Marth's right ear.

"Lovely." Ike smiled. Marth smiled back.

_I like you. I really like you._

"So have you got any ideas for the bathroom?" Ike continued. "I was thinking perhaps of a sort of mosaic…"

They continued to walk around the garden, discussing designs – but every now and then Marth would reach one hand up to touch the rose Ike had put behind his ear and smile to himself. After a few more rounds of the garden they returned to the house. Ike made for the front door.

"Think I'll stop for today if you don't mind. Need to get some resources if I'm going to do a mosaic tomorrow."

"Oh, Um, ok, sure."

Ike nodded and was about to leave when something occurred to him.

"One last thing." He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a chequebook and a pen, filled out a cheque quickly and handed it to Marth.

"I've been meaning to give that back to you but I kept forgetting," Ike apologised. Marth looked at the cheque. It was for £260.

"Oh God." He put one hand over his forehead and took a shaky breath.

"What is it?" Concerned, Ike put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. Marth shook his head and swallowed. _He was always going to give the money back_.

"Marth? Are you okay?"

_He hadn't needed to sell the painting._

"Marth?"

Marth moaned miserably. "I didn't think you'd… I sold it…" he whispered.

"What?"

Marth let his hand drop away from his face and looked back at Ike as squarely as he could manage. "I sold the painting."

"What painting?"

"The portrait you did of me."

A terrible silence followed his declaration.

"How much did it sell for?" Ike asked eventually.

"£5000."

More silence. Marth watched Ike's expression but it was impossible to guess how he was feeling.

"I'll give you the money," Marth blurted out, ready to go back into the house and find it.

"No," said Ike blankly, "keep the money. I gave it to you to do what you liked with, after all."

"I'm sorry," Marth whispered. "I didn't expect it to sell for so much…" It was the wrong to have said. Ike's expression hardened.

"When it comes to art, people pay what they think the piece is worth," he explained, not without a hint of venom. He shook his head slowly. "Why?"

"I didn't know if you were going to pay me back the £260… I couldn't afford…" Marth trailed off under Ike's steely gaze. "I'll get you the money," Marth tried again. "Wait right there…"

"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THE FUCKING MONEY!"

Marth jumped, terrified. He'd never seen Ike angry, let alone as furious as he was now. But a second later Ike calmed down.

"I'm sorry… I don't know where that came from… I'm sorry… Look…" Ike ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "…I'll see you tomorrow, ok?" And without meeting Marth's eye, he turned and left. Marth closed the door behind him. For several seconds he lingered there, his hand on the handle, not knowing what to do, and a few seconds later the first tear made its way down his cheek. This was succeeded after a moment by a second, and more quickly a third. Marth sank to the floor, burying his head in his hands.

Roy's attempt at romance the following day had never been worse timed. Marth could think of nothing but Ike. With blind indifference he accepted the bunch of flowers Roy handed him, ignoring his accompanying compliments and smashing two mugs as he headed for the tap to fetch water for the flowers. Roy did, at length, pick up on his mood.

"What's wrong?" he asked as Marth spilt hot tea down himself and swore for the first time in months.

"Nothing," Marth mumbled sourly.

"You're obviously upset. What happened?" Roy tried to hug him from behind but Marth shoved him away.

"I'm not in the mood, Roy."

"What happened yesterday? Did something… Hang on, is that artist bloke still around painting your walls?"

Marth didn't reply.

"It was him, wasn't it? I don't know what he's done but I swear to god I'll –"

"Roy, stop."

"Why? He's made you miserable!"

"Roy, please."

"Is he coming round today as well? Let me meet him I'll –"

"_Please_."

Roy sighed and dropped the subject, much to Marth's surprise. He felt bad for pushing Roy away but even though he had always wanted Roy to get closer to him romance would have to wait until he could get the guilt he felt over Ike out of his system.


	8. A personal painting

**Sorry about the slight delay in posting here. Thanks to ADashOfInsanity, AlteaAuroraRia, FuneralBell, BunnyFleur and Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki for reviewing! Enjoy!**

* * *

Finally, after having prolonged work as long as possible, Marth returned home to face Ike. He prepared himself for a chilly reception, but told himself that he would try to make Ike's final hours of painting his walls as pleasant as possible.

However, when Marth entered the house everything was eerily quiet. Hadn't Ike turned up? But his van was as the front – he _had_ to be there. Marth nervously checked the lounge, kitchen and utility room; and when Ike was nowhere to be seen Marth headed upstairs, bracing himself for the confrontation that must proceed their chilly parting yesterday.

He checked his bedroom, and then the bathroom, which had been finished now with a slightly abstract wave design mosaic above the bath in different shades of blue, but Ike wasn't there either. Taking a deep breath, Marth headed to the other bedroom, the only room left.

Inside, Ike had begun to form a sort of textured cloud design on one wall in slightly different shades of cream. The artist himself however lay on the bed, paintbrush in hand, asleep. The relief Marth felt that he wouldn't have to speak to Ike until he woke up was quickly succeeded by a feeling of warm affection over Ike's sleeping form.

Tiptoeing closer Marth sat on the bed next to Ike. In sleep his features were relaxed and calm, the only exception being the shadows under his eyes, which had darkened still further from the previous day. How long had he been evading sleep? Marth sighed. Perhaps sleep deprivation could account for part of his yelling the other day as well. Looking at his face, so innocent in sleep, Marth forgave his grouchiness instantly, and hopes Ike could forgive him in turn for selling the painting. He was also filled with the sudden almost parental desire to stroke Ike's cheek. His hand was just beginning to reach out of its own accord when Ike opened his eyes.

"I'm sorry for yesterday," Marth began quickly, "Please forg–"

"Sshhh," Ike whispered, slowly blinking and sitting up. "Do you have water?" he croaked. "I have a headache."

Marth nodded, both glad and wary of the distraction, and headed downstairs to fetch a glass of water.

On returning he found Ike sitting up properly, legs hanging over the side of the bed. He took the cup of water from Marth gratefully and drank it down in one go.

"You alright?"

Ike nodded and rubbed his eyes, yawning. "Sorry for sleeping on the job."

Marth smiled. "Nah, you went down like a true artist. Fell asleep with a paintbrush in your hand! Anyway, judging from the shadows under your eyes you haven't been sleeping much."

Ike opened his mouth to reply, only to close it again with a soft moan, swaying slightly where he sat.

"Are you ok?" Marth asked nervously.

Ike gave a weak and rather unconvincing nod. "Sorry, I felt a bit nauseous for a moment. Better now. And no I haven't been sleeping much." He yawned again.

"Why not?" Marth pried.

"I set quiet alarms to wake me up at various points at night. They bring me gently out of dreams, and then I paint what I dream. Dreams are a great inspiration. If I haven't had a dream by the first alarm I turn it off and go back to sleep. Then I repeat the process when the second alarm goes off. Normally I've had a dream by the first three alarms. Then I stay up and paint what I've dreamt. I get good paintings out of dreams," Ike explained.

"But then you must only get a few hours' sleep ever night!" Marth exclaimed.

"Yeah. And then I do a whole day's painting, but the ones I do from dreams are generally the best."

"And you've done that every night for how long?"

"I think the idea occurred to me about a month ago. I keep going for as many days as I can until I effectively pass out…sorry."

"You're mad…you're _obsessed_…"

At this Ike sat bolt upright, suddenly alert. "What?"

"You're obsessed!" Marth repeated emphatically.

"You really think so?" From his tone of voice it was as if he'd just received the compliment of a lifetime.

"Well…yes. Why are you acting like that's a good thing?"

"My dad always said to me, 'Ike, you'll never focus on anything. You'll drift from one thing to the next… you'll never get anywhere in life.'" Ike grinned. "But if you're saying I'm obsessed that must show some level of dedication and focus, eh?"

"Erm…I guess…but obsession isn't healthy…"

Ike ignored his comment, suddenly reaching out and seizing Marth's hands in a fit of passion. Lowering his voice, he continued quickly, "What's worse, he was right for a long time. I always wanted to prove him wrong so I tried to find something to dedicate myself to – and in doing so drifted from one thing to the next! Then I settled on art – that was good – but I couldn't select a style! Whether to do portraits or landscape or realism in general, sculpture or abstract or in your case a sort of interior design…I still don't know! Will I never focus on anything?"

Marth was taken aback by Ike's sudden outpouring, and slightly scared by the hint of wildness in Ike's eyes as he said it.

"You need to get some sleep," he stated.

"Oh no, I have to paint your wall – just this room to go, won't take too long…" Ike protested.

"Get some sleep."

"But –"

"Sleep."

Too tired to object a third time, with one last permission-seeking glance Ike lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes. Marth smiled.

Downstairs, having left Ike to sleep, Marth made himself a cup of tea and sipped it thoughtfully. Ike really was an oddity. Currently a sleep-deprived oddity.

To pass the time Marth wandered through into the lounge and switched the radio on. Oh, he knew this tune. Putting his tea down he began to nod to the beat. Mmmm…guitar. It was 'Pride and Joy' by Stevie Ray Vaughan.

"De nooww de nowww…" From nodding his head Marth began to tap his foot, then jig a little… but soon enough he was jumping, shaking his hair vigorously and acting air guitar. For just under 4 minutes he was a kid again. Then the song ended and Marth flopped down on the sofa, smiling to himself. God, he was boiling. Without thinking, he took off his top and put it to one side, letting out a sigh. It was too long since he'd been truly relaxed.

After about an hour Marth headed back upstairs, and was surprised to see Ike already up and painting.

"Awake already?"

Ike turned around. "Yeah. Can never sleep with an artistic job half done." He indicated the wall.

"I don't mind you know. You can take a break."

"It's fine." He continued to paint and Marth sat on the bed to watch him.

"Good day at work?" Ike asked.

_Oh god. Roy._ "Ok…I keep thinking about…" Marth took a deep breath. "…about the portrait I sold. I'm so sorry."

Ike sighed. "Look, it's fine."

_Was that it?_ "Are you sure? You were really angry before."

"I was."

Marth waited for him to continue. He didn't. Silence fell as Ike resumed painting. Marth fidgeted. He'd spent a whole day distracted, thinking of how to make it up to Ike. He'd pushed off Roy because of it. A few more minutes passed in silence and then Ike turned to look at Marth.

"Do you want me to put a top on or something?"

"What?" Marth's eyes immediately flicked to meet Ike's, his heart rate accelerating.

"You keep staring at my chest. Do you want to paint it or something?"

Marth laughed, mostly in nervous relief that Ike had added the question on the end. "I can't paint," he replied.

"I'm not asking if you want to paint a picture of it. I'm asking if you want to paint it."

Marth, unsure of what to say, remained quiet. Ike turned around fully and walked towards him, picking up a tub of red paint as he went. Approaching Marth, he took one of Marth's hands, dipped it in the paint and then placed it on his chest.

"There. Go ahead."

Marth, his heart rate reaching fever pitch, slowly slid his hand down Ike's chest, smearing red paint. The lower his hand went the more he blushed, and the more he determinedly avoided looking at Ike's face. Ike, meanwhile, took Marth's other hand, dipped it in the paint and then placed that on his chest as well. This time Marth didn't move it at all, barely able to breathe. Slowly, Ike dipped both his own hands into the paint before placing them on Marth's chest, sliding them slowly upwards until he was cupping Marth's face. The hot of Ike's hands and the cold of the paint touching Marth's already feverish skin combined mercilessly, making Marth nauseous. Suddenly afraid, Marth grabbed Ike's hands in an attempt to pry them free. What about Roy? He'd only known Ike five days…

"Thinking?" asked Ike in a low voice.

"Yes," Marth whispered.

"You know what I do when that happens?"

"W-what?"

Ike kissed him.

It was everything Marth had secretly been hoping for. They both moved onto the bed in unison, Marth threading his hands through Ike's hair, gasping as Ike kissed his collarbone. Their lips found each others' time and time again, Marth resigning himself to the conclusion of it with only brief reluctance.

Moments later, the phone rang.

Marth sat bolt upright, pushing Ike off, but Ike pushed him back down again, straddling him.

"Don't get it," he muttered huskily.

"I have to," Marth whispered.

"No you don't." Ike kissed him again. 9 rings, 10… Marth squirmed free.

"I'm sorry."

Ike just looked at him.

Running downstairs, Marth seized the phone.

"Marth?" He recognised the voice instantly.

"Elisse, what is it?"

"I'm giving birth."

_Oh hell._


	9. New life

**Thankyou to ADashOfInsanity, BunnyFleur, Kufuffelupagus, IlikeYuki, FuneralBell, AlteaAuroraRia and Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki for reviewing! Sorry for the late update - I get easily distracted.**

* * *

"Really?"

"YES!" Elisse screamed. "Find me at the hospital – I need you. I'm just on the way there."

"Right." But Elisse had already hung up. Marth headed back to tell Ike, but Ike was already halfway down the stairs.

"Elisse is giving birth," he rushed. Ike just nodded. Marth was torn. "Come with me?"

Ike took a deep breath, sighed, then nodded.

The hospital was busy and noisy, but when they both finally reached the room where Elisse was all was quiet.

"Oh Marth, there you are."

Marth hugged her tightly. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, wonderfu– _AAAUUURH!_"

"Elisse!"

"Sit down and hold my hand you idiot," she growled through gritted teeth. Marth obeyed her, taking a seat by her bedside. Ike took the seat on the other side. She registered him for the first time.

"Aren't you that artist?"

"Yes. I'm Ike."

"Ike, that it – AAAARGH – Take my other hand." She looked at them both, then smiled suddenly. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No," Marth blushed.

"Yes," said Ike at the same time.

Elisse laughed and looked at Marth. "You both have red paint on you, your chest is bare which it _never_ is, with just a coat slung on and not even buttoned up."

"Um…" Marth didn't know where to look.

"Aw, this is so swee– AAAEEEURRR! GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME GODDAMNIT!" After a short pause, however, she continued, "I'm glad that you've got a boyfriend at last."

"Oh no, he's not my boyfriend," Marth corrected. Elisse raised an eyebrow. Marth smiled back at her, unable to look at Ike. Luckily any further conversation was lost as Elisse finally went into the last stages of labour.

A few minutes later, having cut off the circulation in both Ike and Marth's hands, Elisse gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. They all admired it for a few moments, then Ike wished Elisse the best and left. Marth watched him go, feeling suddenly abandoned. Elisse watched Marth in turn.

"Go after him."

"He's fine. I'm staying here with you."

Elisse looked at him seriously. "Marth, I'm going to fall asleep any moment. I'll hardly be stimulating company. Go and get him."

Marth hesitated.

"Go get him bitch!" Elisse laughed. Smiling, Marth left the room.

At first Ike was nowhere to be seen. Nurses and doctors moved this way and that, giving Marth little view. But then a space cleared and Marth saw him sitting on a seat a little way away.

"Ike?" He approached quietly and sat down next to him. Ike was asleep. Marth smiled in affectionate sympathy. After a moment, however, perhaps somehow sensing he was being watched, Ike opened his eyes.

"Ike?"

"Sorry…tired."

"It's ok."

Ike blinked tiredly. "Marth?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you sell my painting?"

Marth stalled, caught off-guard. "I needed the money. I didn't realise you would pay me back the £260 and I didn't feel like I had another option."

Ike sighed. "I know…but why did you sell the painting?"

Marth couldn't think of an answer. Ike rose to his feet.

"Never mind. See you Marth." And with a small wave and a half-smile, he turned and began to walk away. Marth watched his bare back, smeared in places with red paint, retreat down the hallway. After a short pause he turned, with mixed emotions, to head back to Elisse.

By noon on Monday Marth had made up his mind. Ike had finished painting his house, there was no official reason for them to meet again. And they wouldn't. Well, shouldn't. He barely knew Ike, had only known him a few days, and their closeness scared him. A relationship begun on such short acquaintance could only end in disaster. It was just as well they hadn't had sex. No, as far as Ike went, it was over.

"Marth?"

Roy, on the other hand…

"Hey Roy." He smiled.

"You sound happier today."

"Elisse had her baby yesterday."

"Oh super!"

They continued to talk of inconsequential nothings.

"Are you doing anything after work?" Roy asked after a while.

"No," Marth confessed.

"That artist bloke finally gone then?"

"Yes."

"Good – perhaps I can come over and check out his artistry sometime."

"Sure."

"I was thinking we could hang out around town for a bit after work."

"Ok."

Unencouraged by his monosyllabic answers, Roy fell silent. Marth, his mind elsewhere, served the next customer. Whilst he was working, the very subject of his thoughts appeared at the corner of his eye. Quickly moving from the counter he went to grill the paninis, leaving Roy to attend the counter.

"One large coffee please," said Ike. Roy, recognising who he was serving, glanced over at Marth, suspicious of is sudden absence from the counter. Marth ignored both of them, keeping his eyes firmly on the task in hand. _Had Ike come to visit him?_

"Thanks for the letter, by the way," Ike added. Marth turned around. He hadn't sent Ike a letter!

"No problem," Roy replied. _Roy_ had sent Ike a letter? Marth turned back to the paninis, watching them both out of the corner of his eye. But nothing more was said, and after receiving his coffee Ike left. For a few more minutes Marth distracted himself, but eventually his curiosity got the better of him.

"You sent Ike a letter?"

Roy shrugged. "Yep."

"Why?"

"I decided to send him the cheque by post."

"What cheque?"

Roy froze. "You mean he didn't tell you?" He frowned.

"Tell me what?" asked Marth, getting flustered.

"I'm paying for your walls to be painted."

Marth blinked. "_What?_"

"Marth, there's no way you could have afforded £1050. I can guess how it went – he was probably halfway through before cost was mentioned, and feeling shocked but unable to back out you would have paid him. Did you pay him then if he didn't tell you?"

Marth, who had so far been too busy collecting his thoughts to interrupt, now burst out,

"I was never going to pay him!"

"Aw, Marth. Just as well I stepped in then."

Marth shook his head. "No, you don't get it. He never charged me – he was doing all the work for… free."

"What?" It was Roy's turn to be confused.

"He was always going to do the work for free." Marth decided it would be pointless to explain the whole business of the £260 and _one night_.

"But… he said…" Roy faltered, trying to remember. Marth, bewildered, watched him. When Roy failed to finish his sentence Marth said,

"You have to get your money back."

Roy looked in a state of shock.

"Why did you pay him?" Marth asked. "You can't afford it any more than me!" Marth frowned. "Why did you take it upon yourself to foot the bill?"

"If he was going to do it for free – why? What does he get out of it?" Roy wondered, ignoring his question.

_One night,_ Marth thought. But he couldn't tell that to Roy.

"I don't know," he said instead. "But you'll have to get your money back."

Roy's mind was drifting. "He made it sound like he was charging you…"

"Why did you take it upon yourself to pay for me?" Marth persisted. "I don't need charity!" He would have yelled louder, but remembered where he was.

"I was just trying to be kind..."

"Kind enough to assume I couldn't afford it myself, though assuming _you_ could afford it _yourself _– ON THE SAME SALARY. What are you trying to say?"

"Marth…"

Marth ignored him.


	10. Time with Roy

**Thank you to AlteaAuroraRia, BunnyFleur, ADashOfInsanity, IlikeYuki, MarsMonster, FuneralBell and Kufuffelupagus for reviewing! I love reviews so thank you all so much! Roy get's a bit more action in this chapter - don't worry about Ike, all in good time. :)**

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Despite this Marth decided he would still hang out with Roy after work. It wasn't perhaps the most sensible choice he had ever made, but the idea of being home alone with nothing to do was even more unappealing.

They went to the cinema, and to Marth's surprise Roy suggested they watch the latest romantic comedy. Marth had wanted to see it for some time and so agreed, but was surprised that Roy wanted to see it too. They bought some popcorn and drinks from a newsagent's nearby and then went in.

The film was just over two hours long. Marth absolutely loved it. As the credits rolled the nudged Roy excitedly.

"That was epic! I was worried for a while that she was going to get with the other guy."

"Yeah."

"And it was so close when their parents almost walked in on them – ha!"

"Yeah, it was good."

"He bought her a poodle! God, I wouldn't want one of them. Imagine the maintenance for that fur shape. Don't you think?"

"Definitely. Prefer Labradors myself."

The conversation continued in this way for a few minutes. They walked out of town towards a large park that lay to one side of it. The sun was starting to fade and Marth shivered, so Roy put his arm around him. Marth, thinking of Ike, wondered if he remained topless in cold weather, or if he made an exception and put on a coat.

They moved slowly towards the lake, edged round one side with a low wall. Marth and Roy walked towards it.

"Peaceful, huh?" commented Roy.

Marth nodded. After a moment he sat down on the low wall, legs dangling over the water. Roy sat down beside him.

"My father always wanted to teach me fishing," Roy told him. "He said it was a really father-son sport to do. But there were never any rivers near where I lived so I never learnt."

"That's a shame. Was your father very nature-orientated then?"

Roy thought for a moment. "Not really. He was into barbeques and camping… a bit of gardening, I suppose. He was more interested in the hunter-gatherer sort of ideal than the take pictures and birdwatch sort of appreciation."

Marth smiled. In the pause which ensued he took his shoes off and sat forward a little bit to dip his feet into the water. Roy, observing him, asked,

"Are you much of a nature fan then?"

"I do like nature," Marth admitted.

"What about _being_ natural? Are you a fan of that?" Softly, Roy trailed a finger down Marth's cheek.

"Sometimes," Marth replied evasively. Roy stroked his cheek a moment longer, and then dropped his hand. Marth looked at him as if in apology. Roy recovered himself.

"Fish and chips tomorrow?" he suggested.

"Sure."

Later, when Marth was back at home, he contemplated on the mixed feelings the day had produced. His argument and surprise to find out Roy had paid £1050 to Ike to have Marth's house painted was a definite negative, but the day had recovered itself with a great cinema trip and a charming time at the park. So overall, providing Roy got his money back, a definite step forward. Just then the phone rang. That would be Elisse – he'd almost forgotten about that. Preparing to hear a lot of baby talk, Marth picked up the phone.

"Elisse?"

"Is having an identity crisis," replied Ike, sounding amused.

"Ike!"

"Better. Do you have dimples?"

"What?" Trust Ike to come straight out with the randomly spontaneous question of the decade.

"Do you have dimples when you smile?"

"Erm… I'm not sure."

"Go to a mirror and tell me."

Smiling at the randomness of the request, Marth began to head upstairs to the bathroom. To keep the conversation going, Marth said,

"I was talking to Roy today. He almost learnt fishing, you know."

"I hate fish," Ike informed him.

Marth laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"You're a great conversationalist."

"Thanks. Now do you have dimples?"

Marth arrived at the mirror shortly, already smiling, and looked to see if he had dimples.

"Yes I do. Why did you want to know?"

"Professional interest."

Marth laughed, thinking it was sarcastic, before remembering what Ike's profession was. "Hang on…"

But Ike had already hung up. With mixed emotions Marth did the same.

The next day brought another casual date with Roy, this time accompanied by fish and chips.

"Now this is my kind of fishing," Marth joked.

Roy looked at him quizzically.

"Fishin' battery."

Roy grinned. "Nice one."

They wandered away from the fish and chip shop in no particular direction, and ended up heading towards a nearby church.

They approached from around the back so as to avoid the cemetery, and found themselves strolling instead under pleasantly dappled shade and in between long grass and lichen-dusted paving stones. Marth fell silent under the overwhelming natural beauty of the place and looked around him, entranced. Who would think such a place existed so close to town?

"Lovely," he sighed, sitting down on a bench.

"Sure is," Roy agreed.

"All it needs is some fitting theme music in the background."

Roy thought for a moment then sang, "I'm on the highhhway to hell…!"

Marth slapped his shoulder in mock disapproval. This only made Roy sing louder.

"Roy! We're behind a church!"

"So I noticed. I'M ON THE HIIIGHHHWAY TO HELL!"

Marth laughed and threw a chip at him. "That was _not_ what I meant by fitting theme music."

"Oh. Sorry." Roy cleared his throat, then lowering his voice to a gruff baritone, resumed, "Amaaaazing graaace, how sweeet the souuund…"

"_Roy!_" Giggling, Marth shoved him playfully. "Someone will hear you!"

"…that saaaved aa wretch, liike meeee!"

Marth joined in, harmonising. "I once waas lost, but nowwww am fouuund, waas blind, but now I seeee." Then they both burst out laughing, clutching their sides.

"Ah dear," choked Marth as he began to recover. "God's gonna zap you for that."

"I don't see why he should," complained Roy indignantly. "It's not like I was singing anything terrible."

"You were at first."

"It could be considered as a cry for help."

"Oh, _of course_," Marth replied sarcastically. Roy fed him a chip. Determined not to make a fuss of Roy's move and spoil the atmosphere, Marth ate it without comment.

"Ever went to church much as a kid?" Roy asked.

"Not so much. When I was really small I went to Sunday school, but after a while I just grew out of it. You?"

"Nah. What's god ever done for me?"

Marth shrugged, but there was something about Roy's tone that made him sad, and he put a comforting arm around Roy's shoulders. Roy looked at him and smiled. Marth smiled back at him. That was all the invitation Roy needed, and he kissed him. Marth, shocked, pushed him away. Roy looked angry.

"For god's sake Marth!"

Marth looked down at his lap.

"What was that for? Sometimes I don't even know if you're interested…"

Marth felt a lump build in his throat.

"Marth?"

Knowing his voice would break if he tried to reply, he kept silent. Roy, giving him a concerned look, moved off the bench and knelt down in front of him.

"I'm sorry Marth. Please forgive me."

Marth just nodded. He _did_ want to kiss him, but he'd just had hopes of so much more…

"It's your day off tomorrow, right?" Roy asked.

"Yeah," Marth mumbled. Roy just nodded, thinking to himself.

Later, after several awkward changes of topic, they both stood up to leave the church. As they walked, despite everything, Roy reached out and held Marth's hand. Marth took it as a sign he'd been forgiven. Glad their friendship hadn't been spoilt, he walked on with Roy happily as they headed back into town and prepared to go back home to their separate lives.

"See you then." Roy parted with him at the bus stop.

"Yeah. See you soon." Marth waved goodbye and watched him go. He wondered if Ike had given him his £1050 back yet.


	11. Punting

**Thankyou to Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki, Fazzle, Kufuffelupagus, AlteaAuroraRia, MarsMonster and ADashOfInsanity for reviewing! Roy monopolizes Marth a little more unfortunately...

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**

Back at home Marth idly sipped a hot chocolate and watched the news. He wasn't particularly focussed on it though, and after a while he switched it off and turned the radio on instead. Strange that he should know Roy two years and yet now everything felt so rushed. Why hadn't Roy done this sort of thing with him before if he'd always felt that way? Marth sighed and turned the radio up. And Ike, what about Ike? He'd spoken to him only yesterday evening, but that seemed so long ago now, and it was certainly nothing to having Ike's topless presence around his house, painting. And seeing him sleep. And kissing him. He shook his head, trying to make himself forget it, at least for now. But it had reminded him that he still hadn't cleaned the red paint stains they'd made on the spare bed. Getting up, he headed upstairs with the intention of cleaning it.

Ike scrolled through the article one last time, his eyes flicking over all the important bits. "Ike Greil, upcoming artist…launched firmly into the eye of modern art buyers by a new, untitled portrait of a girl whose expression has captured the hearts of its every viewer…None more so than buyer Lord Falcon… 'worth every penny'…The portrait, sold for an impressive £5000, outstrips Greil's previous work…"

Ike closed the page and shut down the computer. He really ought to be grateful for Marth's choice, and yet he wasn't. He remembered when he'd kissed Marth that first time, how he'd done it out of the stupid idea that it would give him a better portrait rather than any other reason. He remembered how Marth's expression had changed so quickly into that look of surprise that had branded itself so vividly in his memory, how his lips had felt different afterwards… He remembered how his feelings on reflection had changed until he stopped to look at the finished painting and realised that painting meant more to him than any painting ever had. And that confused him. There was only one thing Ike knew for sure – he wasn't going to get anywhere by avoiding Marth completely. He resolved to see him, therefore, the next day.

Marth woke late from confused dreams, and wondered what he was going to do that day. Obviously there was the cat to see to as always, but after that he didn't have a clue. He needed some sort of hobby to occupy himself. What was he going to do? What had he _used_ to do? He thought for a moment. Cycling? That was something he hadn't done in a while. Yes, why not.

He got ready, beginning the day as ever by showering, changing, feeding the cat and eating a banana. Then he was ready to go. He was heading to the front door to go out when someone knocked on it from the other side. Who could be calling this early in the morning? He opened the door.

"Roy?"

"Surprise! Hey, glad you're up, I was afraid of surprising you in your dressing gown or something. Look, I have this mad suggestion. Let's go punting!"

"What?"

"Punting!"

"What the hell is that?"

"Marth, don't tell me you've never heard of punting. It's those boats you steer with long poles."

"Punting," Marth repeated.

"Yes. Unless you had anything else planned…"

Marth slowly shook his head. "I was thinking of going cycling but only because I didn't know anything else to do." He frowned. "Why are you here so early?"

"I was afraid of getting her in the afternoon to suggest it only to find you out."

"Isn't it a working day for you?"

"Took the day off."

"Oh. Right."

"So are you coming?"

"Um…sure." Already dressed to go out in trainers, jeans and a t-shirt, Marth stepped out and closed the front door behind him.

"Alright. After you."

It was a reasonably long drive, but eventually they arrived, spent around half an hour looking for somewhere to park in the city centre, failed, and ended up parking further out, about another half hours' walk from the punting site. It was simple enough however once they got there – all Roy had to do was hire a punt and some lifejackets and they were off.

"Have you even done this before?" Marth asked as they pushed off.

"Once. A while ago. But I'm pretty sure I can still do it."

"If you say so." Marth looked at his watch. Barely past 11. How had this happened so early in the day? It felt like a holiday. He smiled, relaxing as he watched the scenery pass by.

"Roy?"

"Yes."

"Why did you invite me out punting?"

"Well, I thought it might be fun, you know?"

He couldn't argue with that. It was the perfect day for it – unusually sunny and clear-skied. It was definitely rather marvellous to start a day with.

"This is awesome!"

"You need to get out more," Roy joked back.

"Yeah, I guess so. Hey, you're good at this!"

"Thanks."

The small boat accelerated onwards, historic buildings passing them on either side. There were overhanging branches to navigate past for a lot of it, but when the route seemed clearer Marth piped up,

"Can I have a go?"

"If you like."

The boat wobbled precariously as they switched position. Marth took hold of the pole as Roy sat down.

"Oh my god! This pole is so much heavier than it looks!" he cried, wobbling for a moment as he tried to put the pole in the water to push the boat alone. He was still struggling as they approached a low bridge.

"Watch out!" Roy warned. Marth, seeing the bridge, attempted to lower the pole so that he could duck underneath, but the current in the river acting on the pole began to unbalance him so he lifted it up again, intending to manoeuvre it into a more stable position, but in doing so the bridge hit the top of the pole and began to drag Marth backwards. Terrified, Marth tried to lower the pole again, but the damage to his balance had been done and he fell backwards into the water.

It was cold, far colder than it looked, and much, much colder than Marth had expected. Feeling the current pulling him away, Marth thrashed, worried that he was going to drown. Roy, back on the boat, was laughing.

"Help!" he called, but the word was lost as water bubbled through his mouth and nose. His left foot caught in some reeds at the bottom of the river and this made him thrash harder, panicking. He couldn't swim. He was going to drown. The thrashing tired him out, but when he relented even a little he felt himself going under. Then, just as he was going to give up all hope of being rescued, strong hands heaved him onto a boat, patting his back as he spat out water. Water dripped into his eyes, meaning that for a long time he couldn't see anything but a blurry vision of the wood in front of him. He felt shaky, cold, and soaked through.

"That was legend!" he heard Roy call, his voice sounding further away than it ought. Was something wrong with his ears? Blinking water out of his eyes he looked up in the direction of the sound.

"Roy?" Roy was standing on another boat a few metres away. Was he somehow on the bank then? But no, he could feel the floor move beneath him – so where was he? Blinking yet more water out of his eyes he looked around him properly. He was on a different boat – someone else had saved him. He turned his head slowly. Beige sandals… tanned legs… green shorts… bare chest… and a large wide-brimmed straw hat pulled down low over the stranger's face.

"Erm…thank you."

"If one wishes to see mermaids drown one need only look."

"What?" Great, he'd been saved by a complete loon.

"It's a poem."

Ok, officially mad. Marth stood up and turned towards Roy, who was steering their own boat towards him. Roy extended a hand and Marth stepped gingerly from one boat to the other. Once safe he looked back over to the other boat. The man was standing now, turning his own boat 180° with graceful ease as Marth watched. There was something familiar about him, though Marth couldn't quite place it. His voice had had a heavy, though not unpleasant accent, yet something had been familiar with that too. He was probably just having déjà vu.

"Are you alright?" Roy asked.

Marth shivered. "You could have helped." He watched as the other boat began shooting away in the other direction. Wow – he hadn't realised punts could go that fast. Who was that weird guy? Roy's laughter distracted him.

"Marth, you idiot. You were wearing your lifejacket! You were never going to drown – oh your face!"

Marth blushed a deep red, humiliated. He'd completely forgotten about that, he must have looked so stupid thrashing around as he was floating. His 'drowning' had been purely psychological. He pulled his lifejacket off violently, as if to punish it for humiliating him. He must have appeared stupid even to the madman, maybe that was why the man had mentioned mermaids drowning… god, even the madman had been mocking him. Perhaps he wasn't even mad. Random but not irrelevant, serious even though the words seemed ridiculous… There was only one person Marth knew who could pull that off. Could it somehow be...?

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**Do you believe in coincidence? Please review! :)**


	12. Coincidence

**Thank you to the following for reviewing the last chapter!: MarsMonster, FuneralBell (poor Marth, too afraid of drowning to realise he wasn't), XxCapturetheLightxX (glad you did too, hope you like it :)), Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki, Kufuffelupagus, Fallen-Petal-94, BunnyFleur (yes, an ambigiously gendered painting always has to be guessed wrong), AlteaAuroraRia and ADashOfInsanity :D Much gratitude to you all!**

**This chapter concludes the punting episode. And I don't believe in coincidence in real life, but in stories...

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_Marth? How the hell had that happened? What was Marth doing here? _Ike thought, shifting the pole as fast as his arms would allow him. He had gone to Marth's house that morning to see him, but finding him absent had headed off to go punting, as was one of his hobbies. But for Marth it was surely the most random place to be in the world – had coincidence gone mad? Well at least he hadn't been recognised. Even though he had wanted to talk to Marth, seeing him so suddenly and having to try and make conversation when Marth was so obviously with that other bloke – what was his name, Roy? – would have been awkward. Yes, it was Roy – the guy that had threatened him and had been phoning him repeatedly over the past two days to ask for his £1050 back. Ike sighed, looking wistfully back down the river for Marth, even though he had long since moved out of sight.

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Nah, it was stupid, it couldn't be. What kind of freaky coincidence would that be anyway?

"Shall we stop for coffee and warm you up a little?" Roy suggested. Marth nodded and Roy turned the boat and began to steer it back to where they had hired it.

In the café, which just happened to be the nearest one they could find, Marth sipped at his tea, shivering more violently now, even though there was no wind indoors.

"You're going to have to take that top off," Roy commented. "It's soaked."

"I know," Marth replied, without making any move to remove it.

"Marth, you'll freeze."

"Fine." Marth peeled off his top and Roy put it in his backpack.

"We should go for a stroll after this; hopefully the sunshine will warm you up a bit."

"Maybe." Either way Marth gulped down his hot teas gratefully, enjoying every warm sip.

"I think I'll let you steer next time," he commented as they finished.

They wandered aimlessly for a bit, ending up rather ironically on the bridge that had been Marth's punting downfall below.

"Tempting to play poohsticks," joked Roy, looking down at the river.

"Except we'd have to dash across a road to look at the other side," Marth added.

"There is that. Do you want an ice cream?"

"Ok."

"Stay here I'll go get you one." He headed off. Marth looked out across the river, enjoying the scene. As he waited, he caught a glimpse of a large straw hat out of the corner of his eye and turned his head a little to look at it more directly. The hat wasn't pulled down as fully now, and the man's identity was obvious. It was Ike, decidedly. Did he realise Marth was standing there?

"If one wishes to see mermaids drown…" he said airily, watching Ike out of the corner of his eye for a response. When there was none, Marth raised his voice slightly.

"Come on, it's Ike, isn't it?" Marth laughed. "You aren't even trying this time."

Ike grinned and took of his hat before turning to look back at him. "Alright. You got me."

"Nice poetic line by the way."

"Why thank you. Nice flailing."

"Touché. But why didn't you just say who you were at the time?"

"You were in company." Ike shrugged. "It would have been awkward."

"You but that mermaid thing was just weird."

"If I'd said anything else you would have recognised me straight off."

"But I did recognise you."

"It wasn't _that_ obvious, I'm sure."

"Oh it _was_," Marth teased. Ike whisked off his hat and put it on Marth, pulling the front down.

"Oh my god, who is that?" he joked with mock drama. Marth whisked it off again.

"It's ME!"

"No _way_. See, the disguise is amazing."

Marth laughed. "This coincidence is crazy."

"I know," Ike agreed, reaching to take his hat back.

"Suits you," Marth complimented once he'd put it back on.

"I know."

"So modest."

"So sarcastic."

They smiled at each other in mutual appreciation. After a moment Marth remembered Roy was meant to be coming back with ice creams at any moment. Ike sensed his thoughts.

"Are you with him?"

"As in?"

"Boyfriend."

"No." Marth looked at Ike for a long moment. Ike held his gaze, composed and intense for several moments, then got distracted by something he saw out of the corner of his eye, pulled his hat down and walked away without a word. Marth, confused, was about to go after him when the source of the distraction suddenly appeared beside him, offering ice cream.

"Who was that guy?"

"Oh…" Marth waved a hand absently. "Lost tourist."

Roy seemed none the wiser and smiled. Then they turned in unison, eating their ice creams as they followed the pavement down to the bank of the river. Marth, who had been distracted by his meeting with Ike, was mostly silent, listening to Roy and the gentle rush of the river beside them. Occasionally there was birdsong or even the scampering of small animals in the bushes, but mostly interruptions came from the ringing of bicycle bells as impatient cyclists weaved their way past. Presently Roy nudged him with an elbow.

"Your head is in the clouds. What are you thinking of?"

Marth shrugged. "It's been nice these last few days."

"It has."

"Thank you for taking me punting."

"Not at all. Glad you liked it."

"It was lovely. Apart from when I fell in, obviously."

"I thought it was quite funny. Hang on, you've got some ice cream just there…" Roy prodded the side of Marth's mouth with his little finger. Then he licked the finger and dabbed at the spot, but left the finger lingering there, and looked at Marth intensely. Marth shot him a warning look. Roy looked at his lips, ignoring him, and a moment later he pulled Marth violently towards him and kissed him. Marth struggled automatically, shocked, but Roy only pressed into him harder, running his hands through Marth's hair. He kissed him long and unrelentingly, slightly crushing Marth in the process. But eventually he paused for breath, and in it Marth stammered quickly,

"This is too fast."

"I can do slower." Roy reached for Marth's belt, slowly undoing it as his eyes glittered dangerously with passion.

"Roy, please don't…" Marth gasped involuntarily as Roy seized him again, kissing him up the side of his neck. Passers by stared at them, and one disgruntled woman said loudly, "Get a room," before hurrying on. Roy ignored her, but Marth couldn't.

"Roy, we can't. Stop. Please."

"You want this Marth. Don't pretend to deny it." Roy looked him up and down meaningfully. "Come on, let's go home."

It killed Marth to reject him, but he knew it had to be done. He pushed Roy away as forcefully as he dared and shook his head.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I want more than this."

"You've said that before. You wanted an evening for us to hang out – we hung out. You wanted romance – hasn't this been romantic?"

Marth took a shaky breath. "That's not what I meant, I..."

"Then what _did_ you mean, Marth?"

"I-I-I-I…" His voice box closed off, strangled.

"I want to be with you Marth." Roy took him gently by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. "What else do you want?"

Marth swallowed, but when he opened his mouth no words could escape him, as if the intensity of Roy's gaze was pushing them back down to some place deep inside him.

"_What do you want?"_

"I WANT TO BE LOVED!" Marth yelled, the words erupting from nowhere in retaliation of Roy's. Roy looked taken aback, and Marth, hideously embarrassed, turned and began to walk away, even knowing that at some point he would have to turn around again so that Roy could drive him home.


	13. Culmination at the cinema

**Thank you to Fazzle, MarsMonstar, Kufuffelupagus, ADashOfInsanity, Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki, XxCapturetheLightxX and AlteaAuroraRia for reviewing! Things get even more tense with Roy...

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The remainder of the week passed in a similar fashion. Each day Roy would do something toughing or romantic and Marth would be tickled with joy, but each day ended with Roy reinforcing how much he wanted a physical side to their relationship, sometimes just with hints, other times more forcefully. Marth, his ideas of a long term romance like in stories and films still firmly in his head, always pushed him back. Though it was nice to know someone found him attractive, Marth wanted to be loved rather than lusted over.

At length Monday came round again, and Roy proposed another trip to the cinema. The film he wanted to see had only just come out the previous day – an action movie jam packed with fighting and suspense. It wasn't Marth's first choice but he agreed, looking forward to spending more time with Roy.

They filed into the cinema late, silently peering through the dark to locate their seats. Marth, who would hardly see over the huge tub of popcorn he'd been given to hold, whispered, "Where are we sitting?"

"I can't tell!" Roy hissed. "It's too dark. Just budge into that row there."

Marth walked into the end of the row twice before finally finding his way in, stumbling a little with the popcorn and sitting down awkwardly on the second seat in. Less than a second after having sat down he realised his mistake, and leapt up, his squeal muffled by the hand of the person whose lap he had sat on.

"Sshhh, please. I can't stand it when people scream."

He hadn't just sat on any stranger either.

"Sorry." The man removed his hand. Did Ike realise who had just sat on him? Oh help, this really wasn't the ideal start to the movie.

"Hang on, is that Marth?"

Marth turned crimson, and was grateful that no one could see, though if he'd been able to see in the first place it wouldn't have happened.

"Never mind. Just sit down." Ike shifted over a seat and Marth sat down.

Luckily he had only the adverts and trailers to wallow in the shame of his error, for as the film began Roy started to whisper to him, suddenly eager to share everything he knew about the plot summary, actors' histories, and other acclaimed films by the same director. His enthusiasm surprised Marth considerably but as the film began to wear in he wondered if Roy had somehow seen the film before. It was fighting right from the start, and involved two spies, the hero and heroine, trying to save the world from the wrong side of the law. But Marth, of course, was distracted. Why couldn't he bump into Ike _normally_? He'd bumped into him when Ike had saved him from 'drowning', and now by sitting on his lap accidentally. What was wrong with a supermarket meeting, the sort of 'oh, hi' type meeting that happened normally? It didn't help that things with Ike were unresolved since… the day Elisse had given birth, and every time he'd bumped into Ike since he'd been with Roy.

He attempted to forget about it all and enjoy the film, which wouldn't have been hard, given that it was a fast action-packed film – wouldn't have been hard, that is, if Roy hadn't decided to put a hand on Marth's thigh. Marth attempted to push it off gently, but Roy refused to move his hand, and embarrassed, Marth decided to put up with it. And he would have put up with it – would have put up with it, that is, if Roy hadn't decided to slide his hand slowly upwards, no doubt without the intention of reaching his crotch before the film ended and the lights went up. Marth, acutely uncomfortable, attempted to lift Roy's hand off, but Roy was far stronger and kept it there. Did he realise how unwilling Marth was to make a fuss – was he taking advantage of him?

"Roy, stop it," he whispered. Roy remained silent, and his hand didn't move. Marth tried again to pull himself free, with no success. He knew that if he tried any harder he would probably draw attention to himself, but it seemed the only way he was going to get away from Roy was to move. And what if he did move and Roy followed him? As the pressure of the situation mounted Marth decided to struggle one last time.

"Stop it," he hissed, jerking away from Roy as he attempted to pull his hand off. The tub of popcorn fell noisily to the floor. Then there was a sudden beam of torchlight from Ike's direction, briefly highlighting the struggle between them. Roy snatched his hand away and the torchlight went out, and silence resumed again. But things were not as they were before. From where Marth sat he could sense the tension in Roy and was tense himself, knowing what Ike had seen. The rest of the film slowly passed away in this fashion, minute by painful minute.

The credits finally rolled after what felt like hours, and the lights came back on. Roy and Ike stood up immediately. Roy turned to leave, but not before he saw Ike. The two of them stared at each other. Ike's eyes were dark with fury, pinning Roy where he stood. Even though Ike wasn't looking at him Marth squirmed in his seat, as if the shame encompassed him also. Roy was the first to speak.

"You owe me £1050."

"I could sue you for assault for ten times that."

Roy had no answer to that. Ike walked past him, only looking away at the last moment. He didn't look at Marth at all.

As soon as Marth had left the cinema screen he scanned around for Ike and having seen him ran up to him, breathless.

"Ike."

Ike turned around slowly.

"Please don't sue him."

Ike looked over Marth's head for a moment, and spotting Roy approaching from some distance behind, stepped around Marth so that his back was facing Roy. He lowered his voice.

"I won't. I can't. He assaulted you, not me, and it was so brief we would be the only witnesses. It would be our word against his – a pointless lawsuit. Marth, I was just saying it to make a point. Roy knows that."

Marth looked into his eyes, so gentle with concern and yet angry at the same time, and was momentarily consumed by the desire to burst into tears. He took a second to compose himself, and then replied weakly,

"It wasn't what it looked like."

Ike looked back at him silently. They both knew, no matter how out of context, what Ike had seen had been _exactly_ what it had looked like. But all Ike said was,

"I hope not." Then with one last glance back at Roy, Ike turned and left. Marth noticed as he walked away he was carrying a clear plastic bag of painting materials. Ike had been painting in the _cinema_. The sudden urge to laugh bubbled up with the hopeless want to cry, and once Roy reached him one look threw him into total confusion and he burst into tears. Roy hugged him close and stroked his hair.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise you objected so much…" he murmured. Marth sobbed pathetically into his shoulder, too shaken up to move. Eventually Roy let him go and he wiped his eyes.

"Shall we go get a coffee or something?" Roy suggested. Marth shook his head.

"I think I'll just go home now."

"Come on – one coffee?"

Marth shook his head and Roy seemed to deflate, as if accepting that damage had been done and it wasn't just going to be fixed because he willed it.

Marth sat at home alone, miserable. Why had Roy had to go and spoil it like that? They got on so well otherwise… Was it Marth's fault? Should he let Roy do what he wanted? Was Marth being the freak by holding back when any normal person would have returned Roy's affections by now? Had he been fooled by films and books that in dreamy relationships the kiss always comes at the end?

The questions circulated in his head as he curled up on the sofa, the radio playing softly in the background. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life like this, alone at home listening to the radio after work. There were a million other ways he could spend the time of course, hobbies he could take up, places he could go. But when that was over at the end of the day he would still have to come back to an empty house. He sighed and headed to his room.


	14. Morning interludes and more coincindence

**Thank you to ADashOfInsanity, ShaeTheFag, AlteaAuroraRa, Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki, XxCapturetheLightxX, BunnyFleur and motolokiev (I know I'm not great at writing plot summaries. Thank you for joining the story :)) for reviewing since my last update! **

**In this chapter I find it amusing that Marth doesn't believe in coincidence...**

**

* * *

**

And then it was morning, time for Elisse to get up. The day had begun; there was no avoiding it. Yawning, she rolled over and looked at the clock. 3:04am. Well, that beat yesterday.

She got up and followed the baby's cries into the nursery.

"Sshhh little one." Reaching down she picked up the baby Aaron and cradled him in her arms. Marth didn't even know the baby's name yet; it felt like she hadn't spoken to him for ages. Well, her little brother could take care of himself now; she had other things to think of. Still, she could call him later perhaps, see how he was.

She carried the baby downstairs soothing it. Aaron was a terrible baby, cried constantly, always needed something, and not just simple milk, burp, sleep, toilet needs either. Sometimes the only thing that would calm him would be her singing, or if she turned the television on. She didn't know that much about babies, but she was fairly sure that much fussiness wasn't a common thing. Perhaps she should get a babysitter – they might know more than her; then perhaps she could have a break, or more than three hours' sleep in one go.

"Alright Aaron, what do you want this time?" she cooed, kissing his forehead as her ears rebelled against the injustice of such a big noise coming from such a small creature.

* * *

Ike woke up, another silent alarm bringing him into the moment. He reached for a new canvas and paintbrush – time to paint what he'd dreamt. A king, there had been a king who he needed to give an offering to but he had nothing to give, everything he offered the king rejected and after so many attempts the king had gotten fed up and summoned a lion-headed lizard to eat him.

Ike painted frantically, the bold colours barely representing the dream itself, more focussed on the emotions that went with it. Inadequacy, the always giving to the king but not being good enough, trying so many different things rather than focussing on one thing, trying to improve one gift… His father. "…you'll never focus on anything… you'll never get anywhere in life…" No – his father wasn't in the dream – _focus Ike._ But his father returned in his mind, looking sternly back at him. _You need to get some sleep._ Eh? His father hadn't said that, who had? No, focus, paint dream… Father King Lizard Marth…Marth.

"Marth." Ike woke for real this time, sitting upright in bed. He was going mad, dreaming about waking and painting a dream before actually waking up. He really did need to get some sleep. But no, the day had begun, he needed to paint his dream. For real. What time was it anyway? He looked at the clock. 3:06am. Jolly good.

* * *

Roy watched with interest as Marth slowly removed his top and let it drop to the floor. He reached for his own top and pulled it off, and stared at Marth unashamedly as he reached for his jeans. He had such beautiful skin… Roy moved closer, holding Marth gently and inhaling the sweet scent behind his ears. He moved in for a kiss…

…and woke up.

"NO!" He closed his eyes and tried to sink back into the dream but to no avail. He was awake – well and truly awake. He looked at the clock. 3:08am. God, it was too early for this sort of thing, he really ought to try and go back to sleep. But the dream… something had to be done. Rolling out of bed Roy left the bedroom, crossed the landing, and shut himself in the bathroom.

* * *

Marth woke late to bright sunshine streaming down over his face. Blinking against the light, he rubbed his eyes tiredly. He never woke this late – hadn't his alarm gone off? Just as well it was his day off today. He looked at the clock – it looked like the battery had died at precisely 3:06am. Wonderful.

Stumbling downstairs, he saw to the cat and then grabbed the cereal packet and a spoon and headed out into the garden. He'd had just about enough of it all now. The thought of even _trying_ to talk to Roy or make amends made him feel tired and tense. He didn't believe in extreme coincidence of time and place, and he felt he could rest assured that if he stayed home today he would have a perfectly peaceful time all by himself. Perhaps he could call Elisse for a chat, discuss the new baby, take his mind off –

_Knock knock._

Marth tensed, deciding almost instantly that he wasn't going to answer it. He might need to make up with Roy but not now. There was too much to consider before he spoke to Roy again. But wait – wasn't he just thinking that he _didn't_ believe in extreme coincidence of time and place? It was probably the postman or some sales person. Marth sighed. It was too much effort to get up and answer it. He returned to eating his cereal. The new morning sunshine streamed down on his face, warming him. Then he heard a key turning in the lock.

Marth was practically at the door by the time the visitor had stepped through it.

"Ike."

"Marth."

There was a long pause. Marth waited for Ike to come up with an excuse for his arrival, yet for some reason he suspected there wasn't one.

"I, er, think I left a paintbrush here…" Ike muttered, obviously feeling obliged to say something. Two things occurred to Marth simultaneously. The first was a vivid and emotional flashback of Ike walking away from him at the cinema yesterday. The second was that Marth was still wearing his pyjamas.

"Right. Um…I'll be right back." He dashed up to his room to get changed.

A few minutes later he was back downstairs. He found Ike in the kitchen, just finishing making two large coffees. Ike passed one to him.

"How are you?"

"Oh. I'm fine." He wasn't, of course. The memory of the incident at the cinema loomed in the room invisible and unmentioned, hanging in the air like the coffee fumes. Either wisely or unavoidably, Ike targeted it.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. I hope I didn't make things worse."

"No, don't apologise. You…Roy…" Marth trailed off.

"You don't have to try and explain if you don't want to…" Ike left a significant pause. "You can always say no."

Somehow the words just hit a spot. But Marth refused to let himself cry. If Ike had given him any longer to let it sink in he surely would have, but Ike quickly continued,

"I was thinking of going cycling. Care to join me?"

"Um…"

"There's this field I want to paint. Bring a book if you like and I can put it in my backpack along with the ham rolls."

Marth cracked a small smile. Painting, always painting. And topless, always topless. This time with baggy green cargo pants, old trainers and presumably a helmet to accompany.

"Ok," he agreed quietly.

"Great." Ike smiled and headed out the front door. A few moments later Marth followed him.

It was a gentle 20-minute cycle down a well-worn dirt track to get to the field Ike was hoping to paint. Despite it being such a convenient distance from Marth's house Marth had never taken that route before and as they both turned the final corner he saw the field for the first time.

"Wow."

The field covered several acres and had been left for some time entirely to nature. Knee-high grass and wildflowers had flourished and butterflies danced amongst them as if in celebration.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Ike asked rhetorically. He sat down on the small cut-grass patch that bordered the entrance to the field and took out a small canvas. Marth sat down beside him, taking out the book Ike had advised him to bring. He was quickly distracted however by the beautiful scene surrounding him and Ike's slowly emerging painting of it. The sunlight really brought out the golden tones in Ike's skin as well, Marth realised. A thought occurred to him and Marth smiled, a pleasant sensation of warmth spreading through his belly and up into his chest.

"Ike?"

"Yes?"

"I never thought I'd ever ask anyone this but… what do you look like in a top?"

Ike laughed. "I wore a shirt the day you first saw me at the café, I believe."

"It was unbuttoned – that doesn't count."

Ike raised one eyebrow jokingly. "Do you find me indecent?"

"No, just quirky."

"Good. Oh, and don't make me laugh whilst I'm painting. I find I use brighter shades when I'm in a more humorous mood but I want to capture this field as realistically as possible so I can understand natural colouring and lighting better."

"Right." Such an odd request. "What about if you just smile?"

"Preferably not. I warn you if you make my lips move the slightest bit upwards whilst I'm painting I'll…" He cast about for a weapon, then seized a grass stalk, lifted Marth's top slightly and tickled his side with it. Marth giggled and rolled away.

"Ike…"

"Shush." Ike waved the grass stalk at him in mock threat. Marth smiled to himself and Ike returned to his painting.

It was a very peaceful two hours before lunch. Marth read a little but napped for the remainder of the time and when lunchtime came Ike shared out his ham rolls and water. They didn't speak much but Marth felt content and relaxed. Once he'd finished eating a touch of energy even crept in.

"Would it spoil your painting if I took a walk through the field?" he asked Ike.

"Probably not. Go ahead."

Marth got up from where he was sitting and stepped into the long grass. It brushed around him as he walked, making a pleasant swishing sound. He should come to this field more often but in truth he didn't think he would. What would be his excuse? He sighed, then took a deep breath of fresh air, turning around slowly back to Ike.

"Freeze right there!"

Marth froze. Ike whipped out a separate sheet of paper and pencil seemingly from nowhere and sketched something for a few seconds. Then he got up and walked over to Marth before poking one of his cheeks.

"There. Dimples."

Marth's smile widened at Ike's peculiar interest. "So?"

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What were you sketching?"

"Something to paint later."

"Is it me?" Marth pushed.

"Yes," Ike admitted.

"Don't I need to pose?"

"I have a photographic memory."

_That would explain how he had done that first portrait._

"Then why are you painting outdoors here now? You could have just arrived, taken one look at the field, sketched a few base lines or whatever and gone home," Marth argued.

"Well…" Ike looked away for a moment. "Having cycled all the way out here I figured I might as well stay here to paint… you don't mind, do you? Did you want to go straight home?"

Marth thought about it. The little expedition had been completely unplanned but it had been a lovely few hours and he hadn't regretted coming.

"No, it's been great," he replied honestly.

"Good."

There was a brief gap in which they both just smiled.

"Thank you for painting my house and everything," Marth said.

"No, no…" Ike shuffled a little on the spot. "I'm thinking of going abroad."

Marth was silent.

"I need to sample new cultures and see new sights for inspiration. I've always wanted to travel."

"Oh. Well have fun. Send me a postcard or something."

"You could come along if you like," Ike suggested.

"Oh, no…I couldn't. You have fun." Marth smiled. Ike poked his cheek. Marth swatted his hand away and blushed.

"Leave my dimples alone."

"There weren't any."

"What?"

Ike didn't reply.

"I don't get it."

"Neither do I." But something in Ike's eyes showed that he had a theory. Before Marth could try and make sense of what Ike was saying Ike reached into his pocket and passed Marth a key.

"You shouldn't keep it under the doormat."

Marth took his spare key back without comment. He remembered the first day Ike had used it and Marth had gone home to find him inside painting; uninvited but not unwelcome. The key didn't fit in his hand.

"Send me a postcard or something," he repeated.

It took Ike half an hour to finish the painting. He explained in part how it was done but they went on to talk of films and their favourite types of hat. Marth sat facing him as they talked but he caught a glimpse of the painting as it was carefully slipped into Ike's backpack. The colours made it look as golden as a cornfield.


	15. Acceleration

**RE-WRITE ALERT!**** Ok, so I've rewritten chapter 15 a bit. Thing was, no matter how much I looked at it I still couldn't be satisfied with several areas and in the end decided a partial re-write was the best option. Major sorry to all those who will have to re-read! :-/ I hope it's a bit better now...**

**A big thank you to XxCapturetheLightxX, AlteaAuroraRia, BunnyFleur, motolokiev, ShaeTheFag and ADashOfInsanity for reviewing Chapter 14 and to Kufuffelupagas, ADashOfInsanity, ShaeTheFag, AlteaAuroraRia, XxCapturetheLightxX and BunnyFleur for reviewing the original Chapter 15.**

* * *

Back at home later with Ike gone, Marth phoned Elisse. She answered on the first ring.

"Bro?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"I thought you'd _never_ call!"

Marth felt guilty instantly. "I'm so sorry. What did you call the baby in the end? Tell me everything."

"He's called Aaron…" For the next five minutes there was an outpouring of information – baby clothes, baby food, baby everything. Elisse spoke faster than a train, moaning about sleeping hours and the smelly business of nappy changing. Marth offered his consolations until she ran out of steam and asked about him instead.

"Well I haven't really…" Marth began.

"Who is it?" Elisse butted in.

"What?"

"Don't give me that 'I haven't really been doing much' bullshit. I can see right through you even over the phone."

"Er…"

"Spill it."

"Well I have been going out with Roy…"

"Roy?" Oh yeah, the work colleague you had a crush on."

"Yeah."

"How was it?"

Marth hesitated.

"Oh no – what happened?"

"It was nothing. I went out with him for like a week up until yesterday. It was fine."

"Right."

"We went punting one day as well as other stuff."

"Punting, how romantic. Up until yesterday?"

"Yes."

"I wasn't after a confirmation you dork. Why not today?"

Marth hesitated.

"Did something bad happen yesterday?"

Marth hesitated. Elisse waited. "No, I was just busy today."

"Yeah, right."

"Elisse, please…"

"Oh Marth…" Her voice softened. "It's really bad isn't it?"

"No," Marth snapped.

"Well what did you do today?" she asked.

"Oh, um…" He thought of Ike, then something random but niggling occurred to him. "Elisse can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"When I smile do I have dimples?"

"Don't _you_ know?"

"Just answer the question."

"Well…sometimes."

"Huh?"

"Well most of the time you d– Hang on, I got the impression you'd _fallen out_ with Roy."

"What? Finish what you were saying!"

"Haven't you fallen out with him?"

"A bit."

"Then… _ooohhhh_."

"What?"

"Awww, Marthy!"

"_What?_"

Elisse just laughed and hung up. Marth tried to call her back but she wouldn't answer. He had no idea what she'd found so funny and he couldn't be bothered to try and work it out himself. He decided to have a hot chocolate and occupy himself watching a film instead.

* * *

It was work again the following day. Marth braced himself to meet with Roy. He had to explain that he was sorry and that he wasn't playing hard to get and _did_ want to be with him he just felt a bit awkward sometimes.

The morning passed in silent contemplation of how he was going to approach the issue. As he worked he was acutely aware of Roy's nearby presence and found that his feelings were a mixture of forgiveness and apprehension, the latter of which he tried to ignore. It seemed everything Roy did made his heart skip a beat – from when their arms brushed by the coffee machine to every time Marth heard his voice. He knew it was ridiculous to be so on edge but the tight feeling in his stomach wouldn't leave him alone. It was drawing close to lunch break when he planned to confront Roy, but Roy beat him to it, making Marth jump with just a simple, "Hey Marth."

Marth turned around slowly, his stomach churning. "Hey."

"You look nice today."

"Oh… thanks." Marth got on with the coffee he was making. He knew he should try and say more, smooth things over after the cinema incident, but the words wouldn't come. Roy walked up behind him and pinched his bum.

"No really… you look lovely. Do you want to hang out after work?"

"Um…" His heart was skipping so many beats he felt momentarily light-headed. He took a deep breath and regained focus as Roy began speaking again.

"Marth, I've never liked any one so much as you. The week we spent going out together was one of the best weeks of my life."

Marth was touched, but the effect was spoilt by Roy reaching around to grope him.

"Roy, no!" He wanted to go backwards to the time when they had just chatted as friends with quiet crushes, not forwards to more of this physical stuff… Oh why did this make him feel so nervous? He only wanted to be loved… Roy reached for him again but Marth moved away. Not after the cinema, not straight away, not now! It seemed so much harder to breathe normally with Roy so close like that… Oh dear, he really needed to sit down.

Just then Elise walked in, carrying Aaron with one arm, reaching into her handbag with the other. It was good to see her out with the baby, but Marth was rather too distracted to appreciate the sight. He watched as she strolled up to him smiling, mouthing 'surprise', and knew that no amount of acting skills were going to fool her – trying to smile back would be fruitless. There was no way he could pack his emotions into a comfortable position in the few seconds it would take her to reach him. Sure enough, when she arrived at the counter it took only a matter of moments before her face became a mask of concern. She looked from him over to Roy then back again. For a brief moment her eyes flashed acute sympathy, but then hardened as she took in a deep breath.

"RIGHT," she yelled, startling everyone. "I WASN'T ABLE TO COMPLAIN BEFORE BECAUSE I WAS IN _LABOUR_, BUT NOW I'M BACK YOU BASTARD AND YOU'RE NOT GOING TO GO FREE." She pointed an accusing finger at Roy. "YOU SHORT-CHANGED ME! WHEN I WAS _PREGNANT_. DO YOU RUN SOME SORT OF CLUB HERE FOR TAKING ADVANTAGE OF THE VULNERABLE?"

Marth gasped. Roy had gone as white as a sheet. Samus, the café's manager, stepped in. As she sometimes did she had chosen that day to come down from the office where she spent most of her time and help the staff on the café floor. It gave her a chance to observe conditions from a different perspective and ensure there were no tensions or issues that needed resolving. Having witnessed the whole incident, she quickly approached the counter and addressed Elisse.

"I am extremely sorry ma'am for you negative experience here. Please allow me to compensate you with either a full cash refund for whatever you bought on the day of the offense or a free drink, meal and cake of your choice."

Elisse took a deep breath. The whole café was still deadly silent.

"I'll accept the free drink and etc," she said. Samus nodded and then turned to Roy.

"In my office."

"What?"

"In my office. _Now_." She turned back to Elisse. "What can I get you?"

Conversation slowly filtered its way back in. Marth watched, shocked, as Roy walked away, heading for Samus' office. What had Elisse done _that_ for? He felt worried for Roy and hoped he wouldn't be penalised in any way because of Elisse's impulsive acting. Would Roy suspect Marth had asked Elisse to do that as punishment for his behaviour in the cinema? Worry swept through him. But amidst this turmoil of feeling there was a tiny little part of him that was relieved that at least for now, speaking to Roy was postponed. He attempted to stub it out like a spent cigarette – relief was not appropriate – but it lingered there, stubbornly fuming.

A minute later Marth headed over to Elisse to confront her. Having brought with him no excuse to be at her table, he spoke straight away.

"_Elisse! _What did you do that for?"

"He was making you unhappy," she replied simply.

"I've had some great times with him! He's…he's nice!" Marth argued.

"Your face said otherwise."

"You can't just go doing that!"

"I just did."

"You didn't have to! Now he's in trouble over nothing!"

"Marth, look me in the eye and tell me he doesn't deserve it."

"He doesn't!"

"If you honestly believe that then you are being deliberately blind to yourself Marth."

Marth turned and walked away. He was furious with Elisse of course. Totally furious. Definitely out of order. Uncalled for.

When work ended Marth still hadn't totally recovered. After Roy had talked to Samus in the office he had simply left the café and Marth was worried about what results the interchange might have produced. Honestly, it was totally unfair of Elisse to have done what she did.

* * *

As he had nothing planned that evening, he decided to go over to Roy's house and check that all was ok. Elisse wasn't going to apologise, so he had to do it on her behalf. He knocked twice and waited. After a few minutes when there was still no answer Marth feared the worst. He could hear faint noises inside the house – Roy was definitely in there. He was probably in too foul a mood to open the door – what had Samus said to him? Marth knocked again. This time it was only a short wait before Roy opened the door.

"Oh. Marth." He sounded surprisingly light-hearted, which reassured Marth considerably. He was wearing a dressing gown and appeared to be rather relaxed.

"Hi Roy. I just wanted to say I'm really sorry about Elisse yelling at you. I don't know why she did it and I hope Samus didn't punish you."

Roy just gave a slight nod, not giving away any information. "It's all fine."

Marth took a deep breath. "And as for the cinema trip and everything… I'm sorry for pushing you away, it was just awkw–"

"Oi, Roy! Are you getting back up here or what?" A third voice from behind Roy had interrupted. Before Roy or divine intervention could prevent it Marth saw a naked brunette descending the stairs from behind him. If there was any doubt to the obvious assumption, Roy's guilty expression removed it. The ensuing pause seemed to last a lifetime.

"R-Roy?" Marth croaked eventually. Roy seemed stuck for words, but his lack of explanation was explanation enough. Marth turned and began to walk away numbly, his thoughts catching up with him one by one, in slow motion. His eyes were dry – he felt numb, hollow.

"Marth! MARTH!" Roy, having finally found his voice, caught up with Marth and grabbed his wrist. His tone was unrepentant. "You could have had me Marth! Damnit, I wasn't asking for a miracle, was I? I love you Marth, but I am just so frustrated here!"

Marth stared back at him with empty eyes.

"Come on Marth, it wasn't like you never had the opportunity!"

And then the first tear found its way out. Marth felt so churned up inside he didn't notice it until it was halfway down his cheek, and by the time he did he was already beginning to sob. Roy's tone suddenly changed.

"Marth?" he murmured gently.

"Oh…oh…oh-oh-oh–"

"Marth?"

Shallow, jagged breaths caught in his throat. "Oh…oh God…"

Roy said something else but Marth wasn't listening. Tears blurred his vision over and over, no blinking could clear it. At some point unknown to him he began running. His legs automatically took him home, but as for his mind he might as well have been running anywhere. He had gone to see if _Roy_ was ok, but the only one upset now was him. How could he have misjudged Roy so utterly? He had thought Roy would wait for him, woo him… The thought that he would find someone else instead had never crossed his mind. Could Roy ever reverse his choice? Was there no chance now for them at all? The tears kept falling in a steady stream.

After an immeasurable amount of time his front door came into sight. Ike was standing in front of it. An unexpected sight, but Marth didn't think about it then – couldn't – and simply threw himself at Ike, sobbing. Ike hugged him back without a word. Roy's words rang in his head round and round… Roy had loved him but Marth had blown his chance. Why hadn't he returned Roy's affections? They might already have been a couple by now… Roy who had been his friend for years _finally_ showing an interest in him just to have himself pushed away… He'd missed his chance and now Roy had moved on. All he could think of were Roy's words repeating over and over like a broken record… _You could have had me Marth!_

At length the flow of tears slowed, replaced by an emptiness that slowly delivered him back to the present. There was some sort of soft material against his cheek – he used it as a tissue whilst he let more practical thoughts intrude over his feelings for Roy. Ike – he was hugging Ike. Seeing him at the front door seemed like a distant memory now. Oh dear – what would Ike think of him? He straightened up and gently pulled away from their embrace, marginally embarrassed. After a few moments he managed to find something to say.

"Why didn't you let yourself in?"

"I gave you back your spare key," Ike reminded him gently.

"Oh yeah." _Come on Marth, collect your thoughts._ There was something else obvious he hadn't noticed, what was it? He felt like it was staring him in the face…

"You're wearing a top."

"A bit of a jokey gift before I go abroad."

Marth managed a weak smile.

"Anyway," Ike continued, "I got you something serious as well." He held out a brown package. "But, um… don't open it now. I think I've picked the wrong moment to turn up."

Marth took the package silently.

"Shall I go?" Ike offered.

"No, it's okay, you can stay."

"Shall I go?" Ike repeated.

"It's okay, you can stay," Marth repeated, confused. Ike gave a small smile.

"It's okay, I can go," he said. Marth finally got what he was getting at. He wanted to know what Marth _wanted._

"Stay," he replied quietly. Ike gave a slight nod.

"Shall we go inside and have a drink?"

The hot drinks made they sat in the lounge and discussed the weather, Ike's latest paintings, things on television and other avoiding-the-Roy-topic topics. Marth, still a little numb from shock, let Ike do most of the talking, just nodding or adding in a small comment here and there. But still the conversation managed to continue from one casual discussion to the next. Time passed. More hot drinks were made and drunk. Topics became more abstract and playful. As Marth cheered up a little Ike turned the radio up and began to dance, making a fool of himself. Marth had a sudden flashback of Ike's great dancing on that first karaoke night and realised he was dancing badly just for Marth's entertainment. Something like a ghost of gratitude flowed over him, smoothing the edges of his sadness. And after much hesitation, Marth joined him. It was easier not to think of Roy if he thought of Ike, and Ike helped distract him with random comments. It was somehow odd seeing him in a top. Marth knew what was underneath – it wasn't a matter of curiosity – but it was strange not to see his chest all the same, just a thin sheet of cotton stopping him from being able to look at the toning underneath. It was still there of course, if Marth lifted up the base of the top just a bit…

It took him a moment to register they'd stopped dancing. He jerked his hand away, mildly embarrassed and finding it impossible to explain himself.

"You're going abroad," he blurted out.

"Yes, I said," Ike confirmed.

"Why?" The word escaped him almost by reflex. And the tone – the tone was completely wrong, spoke volumes of meaning that just weren't meant to be there. Marth clapped a hand over his mouth. Where had _that_ come from? He fumbled for an apology, a quick change of topic, anything, but the words jammed in his throat. Luckily Ike replied fairly quickly.

"Just for a taste of different scenery and culture."

"When do you leave?" Marth asked.

"Soon I think. Probably tomorrow or the day after. I'm planning to just take my van and go."

Marth nodded, not knowing what to say. Ike looked at him intensely. Marth, quiet, looked at his feet, but whenever he let their eyes meet he felt a hot flush inside of him. The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Ike shrugged.

"Anyway, best be off."

Marth let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah – maybe you can catch some sleep for a change tonight."

Ike grinned. "Maybe."

"See you then."

"See ya." Ike left the lounge and a moment later Marth heard him let himself out the front door.

Marth slumped onto the sofa. There was too much to think about – first Roy and the incident at the café, then when Marth had visited him and seen… well. And now Ike was leaving to go abroad. He had hoped at least now that he had lost Roy he would still have Ike as a friend to help stopper his sense of loss. But now there was only one person left he could turn to. He vowed to himself to visit Elisse the next day.


	16. Elisse time

**Thankyou to Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki and WayRoundWrond for reviewing the edited chapter 15! **

**This is the last chapter (in all probability) that I will be posting until the 22nd August - going away on the 7th! I leave you with Elisse...

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"Oh Marth, you poor thing," was the first thing she said having heard him sketch out what had happened.

"I'm a failure!" Marth whined.

"You're not. Roy's a bastard."

"He's not! I just missed my chance."

"If you _have_ missed your chance with him that can only be a good thing."

"What do you have against him?"

"You just told me you caught him making out with another guy! And the phone call we had before – I know he did something bad before that, he must have done." She yawned. Marth used it as an excuse to avoid the subject.

"Did I arrive too early?"

Elisse gave a small laugh. "Too late, more like. I know 8am is nothing to you but I got up at 2 this morning."

"Aw, the baby."

"Yes, of course. But look, you have to put Roy behind you," she added, bringing the topic back round again.

Marth bit his lip, unsure. "Do you think I should have made out with him though?"

Elisse looked at him thoughtfully. "Yes."

"Because then – Hang on, what? I thought you were anti-Roy."

"I am. But if you liked him as much as you say then yes, you should have," she reasoned. "So why didn't you?"

"I didn't think I knew him well enough," Marth whispered.

"Hmmm. Might I ask you what you were doing just before you joined me at the hospital for Aaron's birth?"

A sudden vivid flashback completely obliterated Marth's ability to reply. Elisse went on.

"The point is you felt more comfortable doing it with Ike after only knowing _him_ what, a week?"

"We didn't _do it_," Marth muttered, blushing.

"Well _something_ must have happened," Elisse insisted.

"I…it's not…We haven't talked about it since. We're just friends."

Elisse raised an eyebrow. "Did he ask if you wanted to go abroad with him?"

"Yes…"

"I rest my case." Elisse rose out of her chair as the baby began to cry again.

"He was just being nice. You can't just go assuming like that!"

"I can assume what I like." A minute late she had the baby content and sleeping in her arms. It seemed the topic was closed, and Marth was unwilling to pursue it any further. His feelings confused him; he postponed further perusal by putting her arguments to the back of his mind. For some reason she just didn't like Roy and liked Ike, and that was that.

"Would you like to hold Aaron?" Elisse offered. Marth nodded and the baby was passed gently over.

It was surprisingly heavy for such a small thing and Marth cradled it carefully.

"He looks so peaceful."

"You wouldn't think he's a little screaming terror looking at him now, that's for sure." Elisse smiled.

"Do you take him out much?"

"Sometimes. I never have the energy," she admitted. "And I'm worried about all the glares I attract when he begins one of his yelling fits in public."

Marth smiled at her sympathetically. "What if you had a hand?"

"He would still yell."

"I can think of somewhere where that wouldn't matter."

Elisse raised an eyebrow.

Once they got there Marth decided tactfully not to mention it was the same field that Ike had brought him to only two days before. But even without Elisse prompting him he couldn't help but think about Ike and Roy and what she had said. Why didn't he feel more comfortable with Roy even though he'd known him longer?

"This place is beautiful," Elisse gasped beside him.

"I thought you'd like it."

"It's perfect." She turned and gave him a hug.

They lay down side by side in the long grass. It was perfectly sunny with a gentle breeze and even Aaron was happy, making contented noises to himself from where he lay in his pram. Marth sighed.

"I just don't want to be alone," he said suddenly.

"I don't think anyone does," Elisse replied.

"Do you get lonely?"

"I have Aaron."

"Before him."

"I do have friends, Marth."

Marth was silent.

"I wasn't saying that you don't," she added.

"You didn't need to."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Elisse sighed and then rolled over so that she was facing him. There was a thoughtful expression on her face as she spoke.

"I do get lonely sometimes. Especially when I think of Aaron's father." She smiled when he didn't prompt her. "Funny how you never ask about him. Never push for answers. I would. I'm terribly nosy."

Marth only smiled. Elisse continued.

"You know I think I really loved him. It's true I only knew him for a month, but it was such a classic romance I'm telling you you wouldn't get much of a story out of it. His name was Martin, a quiet and kind sort of guy. It was the most clichéd boy-meets-girl rubbish right from the start. And then one evening it was particularly magical and… well, I got pregnant. The stupid thing was, I sort of thought we'd get on afterwards… he seemed so lovely I might have chosen him as the guy to marry and have kids with anyway. But he was shocked and after I told him I never heard from him again." Her voice became quieter towards the end and Marth put an arm around her.

"There were times I almost wanted a termination," she admitted. "But you know I don't believe in abortion."

"You always have me." Marth smiled.

"I guess I do." She hugged him back. "What would I do without my little bro?"

Marth thought for a moment. "You would have no excuse to not pursue this Martin, proclaim your love and force him to accept his parental duties."

Elisse laughed. "You say that like you think it could happen."

"It could."

"Marth don't be silly."

"Don't you have his phone number?"

"He's not interested in being a parent."

"You could still be friends."

"Friends," she repeated.

"Why not?"

"I love him Marth. I would forever feel a little sad that I came short of my happily-ever-after."

"But it's better than nothing," Marth argued.

Elisse sighed, her eyes casting about for inspiration to help her explain. Eventually she said, "Have you ever heard the line by Douglas Adams that goes – 'The impossible often has a kind of integrity which the merely improbable lacks.'?"

"No, what?" Marth frowned and Elisse bit her lip.

"I mean that… what I'm saying is… I'd rather not know him at all than be friends with him and feel like I'm missing out on a little bit extra. I'd always be hoping for our original love."

"Um…just don't hope?" he ventured. She punched him playfully in reproach.

"Come on Marth, surely you can understand this? It would feel like he cheated on me…but with a past version of myself."

Marth was silent. The feeling of being cheated on he thought he could understand, though he wasn't sure he could apply it to Elisse's situation. Elisse tried one last time to explain it.

"It would be like you being just friends with Ike."

"We _are_ just friends!"

"Yeah yeah. Come on, don't you miss the paint smearing?"

"It's…That's not relevant."

"I wasn't even there but I love the look on your face when you get the flashback." She grinned.

"Shut up."

"Red paint."

"Shut up."

"Red paint."

"Shut up."

"Red paint red paint red paint."

"_SHUT UP!_"

Elisse just rolled her eyes. Aaron began crying, probably awakened by Marth's yelling. Feeling guilty Marth got up and lifted the baby out of the pram, soothing it.

"See? You got us both all annoyed."

Elisse smiled. "Well he's stopped crying now – how did you manage that?"

Marth shrugged and sat back down on the grass. He felt protective of the baby, so small and defenceless in his arms. It was adorable.

"You make a charming picture," Elisse commented. But only seconds later, as if in defiance, Aaron began screaming and crying again. Elisse put her hands over her ears.

"What do I do?" Marth asked.

"Try singing to him!"

"What, me?"

"Don't be modest just sing to the little…thing."

And so he did. He didn't know many tunes and even less lyrics (not without the original actually playing, when that happened he knew both effortlessly) but he mixed up bits of songs that came to mind and sang a sort of melodious medley out of it. Sure enough, after a minute Aaron calmed down again, looking up at Marth with big eyes.

"Hey, nice job." Elisse hugged him gratefully.

"That's okay."

"Keep singing."

"Huh? But he's asleep now."

"Just keep singing."

"Why?"

"Sing or I'll…he'll…cry again."

"Oh. Ok." He picked a tune in his head that he thought he knew the most of and resumed singing. He felt self conscious as his voice was the only sound to break the quiet but after a while he settled into it. Elisse lay back on the grass beside him and after a few minutes closed her eyes for a nap.

Marth continued to sing, thinking to himself as the breeze tousled his hair, making plans for tomorrow. Roy was the main thing to address, and the issue needed to be tackled quickly. If Roy had chosen to be with the brunette because Marth hadn't made it known enough that he wanted to be with him there was still a chance that if he told Roy how much he cared for him Roy would leave the brunette and go back to persevering with Marth as he had before. It hurt for sure knowing what he'd done, but Marth could forgive him because Roy had surely loved him first. Love overcame everything, right? So if he met Roy in the morning and – oh God, Ike would be leaving tomorrow. In fact he might already have left, or be leaving right this instant. He'd said only yesterday that he would be leaving 'tomorrow or the day after'. Which meant either today or at the latest tomorrow. He had to say goodbye to him. Properly.

He looked over at Elisse's sleeping face. He couldn't just leave her to go say goodbye to Ike _now _– he'd have to cross his fingers and leave it to tomorrow. He sighed. Elisse looked so peaceful in sleep. She would always be there for him, his closest friend. He watched as she smiled, no doubt enjoying some pleasant dream.

_Red paint._

"Shut up!"

It was only when Elisse woke, startled, that he realised she hadn't spoken at all. The thought had come entirely from him.


	17. Decisions

**Wow! Thankyou to Robellia, Heather, Megane-Nato, BunnyFleur, AlteaAuroraRia, Kufuffelupagus, MarsMonster, XxCapturetheLightxX, NearThe End (long review :D), Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki, WayRoundWrong, motolokiev and ADashOfInsanity for reviewing! You all make my day!**

**As you may have guessed, back from holiday now :) It was lovely... Missing the mountains and winding roads already. Slight delay in posting I know, sorry bout that, but hope this chapter makes up for it... **(and there's a little more to come after)**

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The following morning arrived slowly, the sunlight weak and reluctant. Marth rolled out of bed and got changed. He had the day off today, but Roy would be at work and he wanted to get to the café early so that they could talk before the customers began to pour in.

Yawning, he descended the stairs and greeted his cat before padding tiredly into the kitchen to get breakfast for them both. He felt suspended in a state of weariness beyond apprehension – he was past nervousness now when it came to thinking of Roy. It felt like a part of him had hardened like a scab. If he picked it would he find love pouring out? A tiny, sceptical part of him even wondered, as you do with scabs, if he was just picking if for the sake of it.

He finished breakfast and put on his trainers to leave for the café. Some energy returned to him and he felt more enthused, for want of a better word, to go on with his task. Yes, he would tell Roy how much he meant to him; surely Roy would come back to him then. Roy had wanted Marth in the first place after all. He repeated this to himself as he headed for the front door. But just as he opened the door to leave an unexpected flash of brown caught the corner of his eye and he turned around.

A brown package sat unopened on the stairs. Marth had to think for a moment before he remembered how he got it. Ike had given it to him – a leaving present before he went abroad. Marth had been too preoccupied to open it before and now he was too busy. He hesitated for a moment, his hand jerking towards it but then jerking back again as he remembered his urgency to see Roy. He had to leave now – aargh! – package… At the last moment he grabbed it before leaving the house. When he had a spare moment perhaps he could open it.

He arrived at the café quicker than planned, his heart pumping at full speed as he burst through the main door. Samus, who had been wiping down one of the counters, looked up at him in surprise.

"Marth? You're here early."

"Um, yes. I-Is –"

"You're not working today are you?"

"N-no."

"Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"What's that package?"

"Oh…nothing." Having frozen just inside the door Marth now took a deep breath and moved towards the cashier.

"Is Roy here?"

Samus gave him a long look which at that moment Marth failed to interpret.

"No he's not."

"Oh. Is he ill?"

She shrugged, then paused and gave him another long look. Marth assumed it was a sort of concern, and muttered,

"I guess he must be at home then," before turning and heading back out the café.

Outside he sighed and reassessed. This early disappointment had somewhat unsettled him and the adrenalin he had built up now made him feel shaky. He paused a moment to repeat the task to himself, reset his feelings. But without much further ado he began to head for Roy's house.

The streets passed by as he power-walked, the crowd moving around him in a blur like robots. Then there was the familiar smell of his favourite hotdog stand, quickly followed by other smells – bread, fruit, flowers, doughnut… Then shop after shop: clothes, accessories, stationery, and endless attention-seeking sales labels vying for attention. He ignored it all until a flash of blue made him freeze – heart skipping, breath catching, head turning – but it was for nothing, and Marth had no idea where the feeling had come from, its source now long out of sight. He walked on. The end of town drew closer: bins, litter, and endless pavement. It seemed like everyone else was going the opposite way – mostly workers, using the town as a bypass to other places rather than for leisure. He continued to walk until some red graffiti caught his eye and he froze – legs weakening, palms sweating, stomach turning – but what for? It was only graffiti! It was like a switch had been hit in his subconscious, only to be flicked off as soon as he looked at it, leaving no evidence. He walked on, confused, preoccupied. He had to reach Roy. The town ended with only trees and parkland to go. It was much more peaceful here, with only birdsong to accompany his footsteps. Squirrels, buttercups, dandelions. A few ducks, a river, a…straw hat… With a jerk he twisted around, stopping – eyes widening, muscles tensing, spine shivering – but he had no idea why. The more he reached for it the more elusive the thought became. What had he seen? It was as if a vital link had been stolen from him, leaving only a frustrated ghost in its wake. He sighed, irritated, unable to place it. For a moment he hesitated, but he couldn't afford any time to think about it and walked on towards Roy's house.

A quarter-hour later he was standing in front of Roy's front door, hand held ready to knock. But flashbacks made the final movement hard to complete. Last time he had been at Roy's door… last time he had seen Roy… _Come on, knock._ But he couldn't do it. _You're being stupid. Come on, knock._ Still his hand wouldn't move.

And then the door opened all by itself.

"Oh! Marth." Roy, startled, jumped back a little. "I, er… was just going out to get some milk…"

"Um…Roy?"

"Hmmm?" Roy's eyes flitted over the scenery behind Marth without looking at his face. Eventually he settled on looking down at his feet. This only added to Marth's nervousness.

"I, er…" For a horrible moment he completely forgot what he was going to say. Then he swallowed, recovered. "I do like you, you know."

Roy exhaled loudly. "Marth…" He looked up and Marth quickly looked down.

"It's just… I know I haven't been –"

"Marth."

"I know I haven't been that affectionate, and maybe that's why… why you –"

"Marth." Roy stepped down from the doorway so that he was standing in front of Marth. "Look at me."

Marth's stomach turned uncomfortably.

"Marth. Look at me."

Such a simple thing to ask, why did the thought make him feel unsteady? What could happen if he looked at Roy? Nothing. He was being stupid. _Come on, raise chin…that's it…now eyes…_Oh god, he couldn't do it. Why was Roy asking him to do this?

"Why do I have to look at you?"

"You speak like they're rehearsed lines. I can't tell if you mean it."

_Fair enough._ Marth took a deep breath and slowly raised his eyes until they met Roy's. Roy's expression was steady, waiting for him to speak, but his gentle gaze cut through Marth like a knife. There was nothing harsh in the expression; only a sort of tiredness overlaid with a carefully constructed openness and a tinge of sadness. But it hurt, it hurt like burning. This was the man that had taken years to properly talk to him, and then rushed things in a matter of weeks. The man that had given him such a nice time but then pressured him for more physical contact when he didn't want it. The man who had wanted to be with him and yet…and yet…_cheated. _And in his gaze, despite the depth of it, there was one feeling decidedly absent. Compassion.

"You bastard." The words were bland, but bland like the end of a sledgehammer. Roy looked taken aback. Marth was surprised by his own emotion. The lines that came spilling out of him now were anything but rehearsed.

"You cheating bastard! I thought you cared for me! You… you played me for sex – did you even _like_ me? You know I'm _glad_ we never got that close. You – you fucking bastard!"

Roy stared at him in shocked silence.

"Always chatting to me, being nice, taking me out! It was all just to get me into bed, wasn't it? Well you didn't succeed! I…I…I DON'T WANT YOU!"

The words ripped themselves from him – perhaps always known deep down, but never thought, never voiced. Roy heard him in silence, carefully composed. When Marth stopped there was a long, highly charged quiet, broken only by Marth's heavy breathing.

When Roy finally spoke there was an unusual edge of respect to his voice.

"You won't be seeing me at work any more, don't worry about that. I've already quit."

"Quit?" It was only just a question. The dull surprise died under the burn of Marth's anger.

"The discussion I had with Samus in the office… I was angry. I knew I hadn't short-changed your sister, I suspected she'd staged it on your behalf. Samus asked me why I might believe that, but it was rhetorical. She knows I…we…I haven't always been honourable. You won't see me at the café anymore."

Marth recalled Samus' expression that morning in the café. It made sense now. She had been sparing his feelings, unsure how he would take it, not knowing if Roy had already told him. Well he knew now. His reply was quiet but as barbed as a security fence. "Quit, or were fired? Don't make it sound like you've sacrificed your job on my behalf. Not always _honourable_? Fuck off, Roy." And with that he turned and walked away.

It was only after he'd gone halfway down the street that the full impact of what he'd said finally sunk in. He'd set out to _make up_ with Roy. All it had taken was one look in the eye… He had lied to himself, covering it up, patching it over – but in the end the stitches couldn't hold. Hopes, wishes, dreams stacked on the wrong person, on an ideal. And now he'd thrown off that hope forever. And…and it felt good.

He walked without much thought, the adrenalin carrying him on. At the back of his mind he knew once it wore off it was all too likely he would hit a terrible low, but right then he didn't care. He walked on past rows of houses, walking until all road names were unfamiliar and even his sense of direction was fading. On and on past abandoned shopping trolleys, dog walkers and lawn-mowers until quite unexpectedly he turned a corner and found himself facing a large and beautiful park.

It was separated from the houses surrounding it by only a low black fence, but the divide might have merited an eight-foot brick wall. It was as if all life had been sucked out of the surrounding houses and then poured into this unexpected Eden. It was a mix of carefully trimmed winding hedges and tall wild oak trees, of hothouse-worthy pot plants and asymmetrical pools of wildflowers. And yet the place had a unity to it of colour and texture, and couples and families alike strolled through peacefully. There were several benches scattered throughout and Marth picked a particularly charming spot beneath an arch of climbing roses to rest. Some bees buzzed in the nearby lavender and Marth watched them as he collected his thoughts. Thoughts of Roy, of loneliness, of how he was going to deal with it. What had he done? He hadn't meant to yell like that, but it was done now and beyond repair. It felt initially like a lot to take in, but after only a few minutes his mind went surprisingly numb and he lost himself staring at the scenery.

After around half and hour of just sitting and staring Marth noticed a couple approaching from around a hedge, obviously looking for a bench to sit down. Feeling that he didn't need to stay any longer Marth rose to give up the seat, remembering at the last minute to take his package with him.

Remembering the package.

He'd forgotten it whilst lost in thoughts of Roy, but with the package in his hands he recalled the other task he'd set himself for today – say a proper goodbye to Ike before he went abroad. Of course it might be fruitless now – it was all too likely that he'd already left.

Marth examined the package absently as he walked slowly out of the park. It was tied simply with string. About time he opened it really. With a thumb and forefinger he tugged the string loose and then pulled the packaging free.

It was a painting, of course. How could Marth have thought it could be anything else? But he hadn't thought about the content of the package at all really, not until now.

He knew instantly the moment it had captured. His own face smiled back at him, eyes sparkling with happiness. Light strands of hairs flapped gently around his face, sunlight streaming through the outer edges. The painting had framed him down to the collarbone and behind him a perfect blue sky completed the warm mood of the piece. It had been captured when Ike had asked him to freeze in the field just days ago. Such stunning realism – but of course, Ike had a photographic memory. Holding it Marth couldn't help but be reminded of the first portrait Ike had given him and was suddenly struck by the inadvertent gesture of trust – Ike had known that he'd sold the first portrait, to give him another now… Well, Marth wasn't going to sell this one. He would show the appreciation for talent that Ike deserved and go and thank him for it right now.

The sense of purpose seemed to lengthen his journey – or maybe he'd wandered further after his meeting with Roy than he'd imagined – but at length he was standing outside Ike's door. Ike's van was still in the driveway – he hadn't left yet. It looked like Marth had been lucky. As he raised his hand to knock, however, the bright colours of the painting he was holding caught his eye again and he hesitated to look at it once more. He looked so happy in the painting, caught in a moment of pure relaxed joy. But it wasn't just that… There. Dimples. What was it with dimples? Elisse had _almost_ told him. She'd said he only had them sometimes. Well he'd had them when Ike had called and asked him if had them, he knew. And he'd had them on their day out to the field… He traced the painted cheeks with his finger. So what – he had them when he was very happy? But then why hadn't Elisse said as much on the phone?

He looked up from the painting and knocked on the door. No more dawdling. But if the dimples just meant 'very happy' then why had Elisse never commented on seeing him smile with them, or Roy? He was generally very happy when he was with Elisse but she had said most of the time he didn't have them – but he had them with Ike…

Ike wasn't answering the door. Marth knocked again. What if smiling with dimples…meant more…

Ike still wasn't answering. Marth took a few paces back from the house and looked up at the windows, his mind buzzing with different thoughts and feelings. And there – the top window on the right. Ike came in and out of view, pacing behind the window. If he just looked down he would see Marth there – why wasn't he answering the door?

Marth knocked again, but he could still see Ike pacing without the slightest indication of heading downstairs to let him in. _Just look down! I'm not a salesperson!_ He hesitated a moment, then an ironic idea came to him. Ridiculous of course, but… He bent down and lifted up the doormat. A single silver key lay underneath. A ghost of a smile flitted over his lips as he picked it up and slotted it into the keyhole.

He stepped quietly into the hallway and closed the door behind him. Sure enough, Ike had been alerted by the sound of the front door opening and was now standing at the top of the stairs.

"Marth?"

"You keep your spare key under the _doormat_."

"Yeah." Ike smiled and descended the stairs. He was topless again, as ever, and leaned casually on the banister at the foot of the stairs as he waited for Marth to continue. Marth held up the painting as if in explanation.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I… wanted to wish you well on your travels as well."

"Ah. Thanks." Ike nodded in acknowledgement. There was an awkward pause. Ike shrugged. "Do you, um… want to have a drink or something?"

Marth shrugged, oddly tense. "Sure."

A few minutes later Marth was admiring Ike's lounge once more as he sipped his coffee. Ike sat beside him on the sofa with his own drink, looking a little awkward. Marth smiled at him.

"You really don't sit in here a lot, do you?"

Ike shook his head.

"It's the most beautiful room!"

"I suppose so – and for that very reason the least practical." Ike leant forward a little, wrapping his hands further around the mug as he turned to smile at Marth. "How's Elisse and co?"

"Oh, wonderful. I saw her the other day, she seemed very happy – the baby too." He relaxed as he went on to more detail, calm under Ike's listening gaze.

"Must be wonderful to have a sibling you get on with so well," Ike commented.

"It is." Marth nodded.

Ike paused. "You look a little bit like a milkshake – are you alright?"

The odd statement made Marth smile. "What? Like a milkshake?"

"Yeah." Ike shrugged. "You know, shaky."

Marth shook his head, half-laughing despite himself. "I'm…fine."

Ike frowned slightly, looking at him with softly concerned but amused eyes. "What's funny?"

"_Milkshake?_" Ike had just compared him to a cold dairy beverage and somehow it made him feel a lot better – how did that work?

"Yes," Ike agreed. "Strawberry, I think."

How could he say such odd things so seriously? There was only a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, more as a response to Marth's reaction than his own comment.

"Strawberry," Marth repeated. It was a world away from his conversation with Roy. Ike nodded, taking another gulp of coffee.

"Do you have a problem with strawberry?"

"No… I like strawberries. I've always wanted to grow them, actually," he mused. "What about you? I would have thought you'd be more of a bonsai fan."

Ike laughed. "Ah, them. No, it's the plants that are the hardest to tame that are the more beautiful for their wildness." There was a current of passion to his voice that seduced Marth almost without him being aware of it. He shifted to face Ike more fully.

"Beauty is wildness?"

"Or shyness."

"Like afraid?"

"More timid."

"Sad?"

"Blue." And as he said it he leaned closer and looked straight into Marth's eyes. Marth looked back; and pinned by Ike's own deep blue eyes, caught in the moment, he was inclined to agree.

"Blue like your eyes," he whispered without thinking.

"Like beetles." Ike smiled.

Marth remembered the karaoke night when Ike had painted a blue beetle on his cheek and smiled back. "Like sky," he added.

"Like your hair."

"Like… What?" He pulled back with a jerk, suddenly realising what Ike had said and the look of tenderness as he'd said it, and in leaning back he also realised how close they had been sitting – when had that happened? No, this wasn't right… He stood up and turned away – only to see the painting of him smiling where he'd put it on the floor beside him.

"Dimples." The whisper escaped him before he could check it.

"Yes," Ike answered from behind him, having stood up as soon as he did.

"You know what they mean."

"So do you."

No, he didn't… but he did… Yet it couldn't… yet it was. Marth hesitated, then began to head for the door. Roy, Ike… He had to get out of there. It was too much. But just before he could reach the front door Ike pushed in front of him, blocking his exit.

"Marth." His tone was gently commanding. Marth looked up helplessly, his heart skipping dizzily.

"Yes?"

But Ike didn't continue straight away. After a pause of several seconds however he resumed, "Um… It'll probably be easier if I show you. Follow me."

Marth hesitated, his breathing uneven, but then followed Ike as he headed upstairs before turning into his bedroom.

Ike halted just inside the doorway and Marth stopped beside him. It didn't seem obvious what he was meant to be looking at but when Ike didn't move or point anything out he assumed he was missing something obvious.

The room was essentially blank. The furniture was all neat – there was nothing on the floor or the bedside table, and the whole room looked recently cleaned. It was a little odd actually on reflection – there was nothing artistic in the room at all. Just a single closed suitcase sat on the bed. Marth turned to Ike.

"What were you going to show me? There isn't anyth– Wait." A thought suddenly occurred to him. "If you're already packed and ready, why haven't you left?"

He raised his eyes to Ike's and some part of him, a mix of fear and hope and understanding, formed a connection in their gaze. Ike turned and held Marth's shoulders gently, smiling. There was resignation and humour in his face as he said,

"I'm a fool for you Marth."

Marth could only look back up at him, heart throbbing.

"I planned to leave yesterday," Ike admitted. "There was no reason to delay my departure…apart from you." His smile widened, his eyes soft. "I haven't known you long I know…"

Marth shook his head as all the lost parts of his mind found their way in Ike's eyes. All the confusion on his way to Roy's – Ike was the missing link.

"Time doesn't matter." He'd known Roy long enough, look how that had turned out… Years counted for nothing. And yet when he looked at Ike – he felt like he'd known him forever.

Ike raised one hand and brushed Marth's cheek gently with his fingertips.

"I don't want to go abroad without you."

"Don't go," Marth whispered.

Ike laughed. "If it was a matter of choosing between them I would stay in an instant. I love you Marth."

Marth swayed a little at the words but was warmly unsurprised. Somehow he knew – this was as it should be. He looked back at Ike and found himself smile in response. How long? How long had he confused feelings for one for feelings for the other? It was Ike, not Roy, he loved.

"But surely I don't have to choose," Ike continued. "Come abroad with me Marth."

Marth stalled. "I…I can't afford it."

Ike raised an eyebrow. "Not even £5000?"

Marth blushed. He'd almost forgotten about that. Ike just smiled, the event obviously long forgiven. Then he leant in slowly, his bare chest rising and falling quickly with each breath. With one hand he stroked Marth's cheek, closing his eyes as he moved even closer. And then with a soft sigh he closed the final gap with a kiss. Marth responded without thinking, looping his arms around Ike's neck and pulling him closer.

"I thought we'd forgotten about the red paint incident," he whispered.

"Never."

Ike kissed him again, pulling Marth even tighter against him and slipping a thumb under his shirt, brushing his hot skin in invitation.

"I love you," Marth sighed softly. Ike pulled away slightly, and raised an eyebrow – a question.

Marth took his mobile out of his pocket and switched it off before throwing it to one side – an answer.

From the very first portrait, from house paintings, eccentric sleeping patterns and toplessness – had Marth always loved him? Ike kissed him again and Marth slid easily into his arms, knowing it was where he belonged. From the first beetle to the last dimple, from the café to the field, always a warm glow in his heart, a space saved for Ike. His top slid off slowly and Ike's warm hands held him as they moved towards the bed. From the undercurrents in punting to the blossoming of the rose that was placed in his hair – the picture of the painting, the natural chemistry of coincidence. Everything leading to here, to now.

Ike stroked his cheek and kissed the nape of his neck, his love plain in each action.

"How does Venice sound?"


	18. Epilogue

**Thank you to Robellia, WayRoundWrong, empty-eyed dreamer, Megane-Nato, XxCapturetheLightxX, Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki, AlteaAuroraRia, Kufuffelupagus, BunnyFleur, MarsMonster, motolokiev, Heather and ADashOfInsanity for reviewing chapter 17! This will be the last chance i have to thank you guys for reviewing(on AL anyhow) so I really mean it and thank you all for spurring me on :) Thank you in advance also to all those that review this chapter, and thanks to all those that read and review this story in the future!**

**Keep an eye out for a spin-off I'm writing to celebrate 100+ reviews (and dedicated to the lucky 100th reviewer MarsMonster) - I'll shove a link on my profile to it when it's done! ;)

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In a foreign hotel new light streamed past faded blue shutters into a small, east-facing bedroom, brushing its golden fingertips over pale yellow walls and wooden floorboards. To the left of the window the light moved over a simple white chest of drawers, gently touching the floral detailing on the handles and skirting whilst above this a recently adjusted mirror reflected an oval of light back up at the unusually high ceiling. In one corner a plumped and inviting armchair sat conveniently next to a bedside table and lamp – but no reading had been done there. The sunlight, however, showed other signs of activity – on one half of the double bed crumpled sheets and a dented pillow gave support to not a person but a disarray of paint tubes, brushes and mixing palettes. On the other half of the bed was Marth.

With his eyes still closed his mind drifted slowly towards wakefulness; daytime thoughts and remembrances starting to seep into his dreamstate like pleasant flashbacks.

It had been 3 months since he had agreed to travel with Ike, and not one moment so far had he regretted his choice. At the end of most weeks they would pack their things and go off in Ike's van to a new location – sometimes across borders, sometimes just into the next village. They'd stayed mostly in rural areas but Ike promised him some city life soon. Ike himself remained almost as eccentric on closer acquaintance as he had appeared from the start – a strange contradiction to his otherwise calm and easygoing nature. He painted less now he had Marth around – they spent more time doing activities together. And some days, to bring in extra cash, Ike would set up a stall on the street and offer to draw or paint people's portraits. Marth often accompanied him with a portable radio he occasionally sang along to, something Ike sometimes accused him of drawing in people better than his stall did. And Marth had made several new friends, too. His new lifestyle almost made him forget, sometimes, what he'd left behind. But not quite.

Elisse wrote often (when Marth could promise her they would be staying at the same place for more than two weeks) and he had received her last letter only a few days ago. It read:

Dear Marth,

Attached are some photos of Aaron smiling – he began a few days ago and it's the most adorable thing! He still cries a lot but I'm better at calming him now. I take him to that field you showed me so long ago – Samus tags along quite a lot, we're quite close friends now you know. But the biggest news is by the time you receive this letter I will have met up with Martin! He called yesterday out of the blue and after a little awkwardness we talked like we'd never been apart. I know what I said before but… I would like to be friends with him. And it would be good for Aaron if he could know his father (though Aaron was the reason we split in the first place – aargh!) Well, life goes on, I'll keep you updated. No, don't give me that look. Oi, I said _don't._ There's nothing romantic going on here, alright? Mind you, you're biased on the romantic front – how's Ike? Any more fun since the romp in Venice? (No, I'm not going to let that drop. I still collapse laughing every time I remember calling the hotel receptionist hoping to speak to you and hearing him say in a peeved voice, "Sorry ma'am but they left just this morning. We are currently trying to track them down and charge them for braking the shower fittings…" I was instantly suspicious and your voice on the phone the next day only confirmed my dirty speculations – no matter what you say you can't fool me Marth, I know _exactly_ how you broke that shower…) I'm going to add it to my list of phrases to embarrass you with. Red paint red paint red paint…

As ever yours affectionately,  
Sis xx

Marth felt embarrassed but happy as he recollected her letter. Elisse had always been a happy constant in his life and he knew they would be friends for all time. When he thought of home and his previous life he generally counted not being able to visit her as his biggest loss. But of course, Elisse wasn't the only person he'd left behind that he thought about.

For the first few weeks of his new life with Ike he hadn't thought of Roy at all. He'd had other things on his mind – and if he was honest, he'd just wanted to forget the hurt Roy had caused him. But after two months of sunshine, relaxation and a loving relationship, the bad memories had fuzzied. Roy had been his friend. With romance and love they would have been boyfriends, but as that had failed shouldn't they still be left with friendship? All the things they'd had in common couldn't just evaporate with their fallout, could they? Of course, applying logic to emotion was never going to work, but for his own sake Marth had managed to forgive him. He'd even written him a postcard and persuaded Ike to return his £1050, but was content to leave it at that. Roy was no longer part of his life, whether good, bad, or neither.

As the minutes passed the sunlight strengthened, caressing Marth's face and slowly bringing him awake. He felt pleasantly warm as he shifted slightly beneath the blanket – but not quite warm enough. Where was Ike? He rolled slowly onto his side but the only things on the bed beside him were painting materials. Ike must be already up. And as Marth looked beyond the bed he saw him.

Ike stood painting the wall opposite the window, the sunlight highlighting the golden tones in his skin so beautifully he might have been a work of art himself. He was not just topless but bottomless too and Marth found himself staring at the broad shoulders and the smooth back, then the smooth curve of his bum and his strong legs. The idea of going up behind him and giving him a morning hug sprung into Marth's mind unbidden, filling him with a feeling of love and contentment. But he didn't move straight away and lay there comfortably for a few more moments, letting the happy sensation spread through every inch of him. It was only after a minute or so that Marth realised the greater context of what he was seeing – Ike was stark naked and painting the wall of a hotel room. His initial smile of admiration combined with a bemused frown as he propped himself up on one arm.

"Ike, are you sure you're allowed to do that?" He was pretty sure the hotel hadn't given Ike permission to paint a wall. Not that it was likely they'd mind too much – the abstract yellow rose he was painting was simply beautiful.

At the sound of Marth's voice Ike turned slowly towards him. The mixing palette he held in one hand unintentionally covered his groin but Marth stared anyway, a hint of lust creeping in as he raised his questioning eyes to Ike's face. Ike just shrugged, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Artistic licence."


End file.
